


A light off a storm-tossed coast

by ladyfnick



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Growing Up Together, M/M, Slow Burn, The power of friendship, do not mess with Staven Frelennye, handwavey approach to canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfnick/pseuds/ladyfnick
Summary: After the death of their father, eleven year old Tylendel and Staven Frelennye are sent to Forst Reach by their uncle to keep them out of danger. Despite their difference in age, they become fast friends with nine year old Vanyel Ashkevron. But despite leaving their their home, the brothers have not left danger behind them.





	1. Chapter 1

The boys arrived at Forest Reach just as the last vestiges of winter gave way to spring, the dregs of snow receding from even the darkest shadows, flowers already beginning to burst into bloom and the sun promising to burn away all but the slightest leftover chill.

It wasn’t unusual for boys to be fostered at Forst Reach, there were plenty of them, but they were mostly several years older than Vanyel or closer to Mekeal’s age.

The new boys were twins, though not identical like his mother's lady’s maid’s daughters. One was fairer, with longer wavier blond hair while his brother was taller and his hair was darker and cropped close to his head, likely due to how violently it curled even when cut so short.

From the safety of his hiding spot at the top of the stairs, Vanyel peered down at them.

He wasn’t sure where they had come from specifically, but he’d overheard the armsmen muttering about how odd it was that the Frelennye patriarch had sent his heir and twin brother rather than someoje who wouldn’t inherit. There had been more said, but he hadn’t understood it all and then they had wandered closer and Vanyel had crept away, worried about being spotted out of bed when he was supposed to be asleep candlemarks before.

The boys didn’t speak to anyone, even each other, though their eyes would frequently meet and they would exchange unreadable looks. One of his older cousins had approached them and tried to include them in the game they were playing, but the taller one had just stared at him flintily while the shorter had just shrunk back wordlessly.

Vanyel would have liked to go down and play too, but lately his cousins had been avoiding him and making fun of him when he followed them anyways. Only Mekeal would still play with him, but he was only a baby and wasn’t very fun anyways; he didn’t like playing pretend or music or drawing like Vanyel did, and would rather dig in the dirt with the other younger boys.

He missed Liss fiercely, even if she’d been beyond thrilled to be sent away to foster with the Corey girls and be allowed to train without dumb boys teasing her for it every time she donned her training armor. He thought it might make him a selfish, awful brother to wish she was still there suffering along with him.

Suddenly, the tall boy looked up sharply, eyes finding Vanyel even hidden as he was in the shadows at the top of the stairs. The boy didn’t frown or make a mean face like one of his cousins or the foster boys might have, but Vanyel still shrank back, startled.

Playing with the other boys wasn’t fun anymore anyways, he’d go play by himself. He’d found a cool room in the library the day before, so no one would bug him there.

He bit his lip as he silently slipped away from the stairs.

It would be better by himself.

~

Forst Reach was terrible, Staven concluded sourly. He and Tylendel had only arrived the night before, but it was already clear that he was going to hate it here.

To begin with, Staven and Tylendel didn’t have their own room together like they had at home, they had to share with a seemingly unending number of other boys. The whole keep was filled to bursting with people; children, fosterling, servants, adults and armsmen everywhere, all talking and constantly making noise. Staven was pretty sure he was going to go insane if he didn’t get a moment alone without someone talking at him. Night was no relief, with the constant snoring and grumbling and muttering that came with sharing a room with so many people.

Tylendel hadn’t said so, but Staven was certain he felt the same. He hadn’t spoken a word since their uncle had said he was sending them away. He didn’t talk much anymore to begin with.

Staven would just have to find somewhere quiet for the two of them to disappear to. The keep itself was a labyrinth, with twisting corridors and stairs that exited in odd places and hallways that ended unexpectedly. He was sure he’d be able to find some pocket of space that no one ever used.

Another girl, having not taken the hint of how he’d stared down every attempt to engage him, approached, smiling politely at him and started towards him, probably to blather something annoying. Staven thought if he had to endure another inane one-sided conversation he’d either bash his head in against the stone wall, or the head of the person talking to him.

Before she could get too close, Staven grabbed Tylendel by the forearm and dragged him out of the room. It was time to find some measure of peace and quiet in this hellhole.

On a hunch, he pulled Tylendel up the stairs to the landing he’d spotted a dark-haired boy peering down from. Up the stairs, away from the crowd, it was already quieter, the rumble of voices talking and excited children’s shrieks reduced to a dull murmur.

Staven let out a sigh of relief. Tylendel didn’t say anything, his eyes still firmly trained on the floor, but his shoulders looked less tense.

Still, they’d be spotted if they stuck around this hallway, so Staven picked at direction at random and started in that direction, Tylendel placidly following in his wake.

They were half way down a hallway that inexplicably had no rooms lining the walls when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming towards them. They couldn’t double back, the corner being too far to make before whoever was approaching entered the hallway.

Staven squared his jaw and just hoped it was a servant, or an adult too busy to bother with two fosterling boys.

His heart sank as two rough looking boys rounded the corner. They'd already had several arguments, despite how recently Staven and Tylendel had arrived.

He squared his shoulders and got ready for yet another argument. He hated Forst Reach.

 ~

“Leave them alone!” A voice said sharply from behind them. Staven let go of his grip on Wren’s shirt and stepped back, turning to peer down the hallway.

A small, slight child stood at the end of the hall that Wren had come from. His hands were curled into small trembling fists by his side, and his face screwed up in a frightened but determined scowl.

“Or what, you’ll go cry to your mother?” Wren said dismissively. He didn’t seem to take the child seriously at all, already turning back towards Staven as he spoke.

“No, I’ll tell Jessili that you spent the whole night with Cate last week and didn’t get back until dawn,” the child said loudly.

It was almost entertaining to see the blood rush out of Wren’s face, his jaw slackening in shock. Wren whirled back around, snarling, “Don’t you dare, you little toad!”  
The child’s face had also gone white, but he replied firmly, “I will if you don’t leave them alone and go away.”

Wren glared at the child for a long moment, then roughly jerked back around and stomped down the hall, shoulder purposefully smacking into Staven’s as he went. His friend hurried after him without looking back.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Staven said to the child. He guessed the kid to be only a few years younger than him and Tylendel, maybe eight, though he was rather short.

“If you picked a fight with Wren so soon, none of the other boys’d talk to you. They’d say you didn’t know your place or something,” the child said, scuffing one toe on the floor.

“Is that why they don’t talk to you?” Tylendel asked softly, nearly startling Staven out of his skin.

The child’s chin dipped in towards his chest, shoulders hunching. “No. They just don’t like me.”

“Well, I like you,” Tylendel said, stepping forward. Staven wasn’t surprised to note how rough his voice had become after not speaking for the entire journey to Forst Reach.

The child looked up and smiled shyly at Tylendel. “I’m Vanyel. I like you too.”

“I’m Staven, and this is my brother Tylendel,” Staven said when it was clear Tylendel was done talking again, the silence awkwardly stretching out.

“Why aren’t you with the others?” Vanyel asked curiously. He hoped these boys would talk to him sometimes, even if they couldn’t be friends, but he also knew there had to be a reason they had left the hall where all the other children and young adults congregated after dinner. He didn’t want to be too hopeful about these boys. There had to be a reason after all that none of the boys wanted to play with him anymore.

“It was too loud,” Staven said with a grimace. “We aren’t used to living somewhere with so many people always around.”

“I know somewhere quiet,” Vanyel offered hesitantly. It might not have been the best idea to show them his new favourite hiding place so soon, but he desperately wanted to impress these boys.

Vanyel led them through a series of increasingly odd staircases and hallways, ending in what looked to be an underused library.

“This is quiet,” Staven said, looking around with interest. Several large windows on one wall let in the last of the day’s light, illuminating dust motes that danced in the still, stale air.

“This isn’t it,” Vanyel said, leading them deeper into the library, stopping at a tiny door nearly invisible in the shadow cast by a bookcase. “In here,” he said and opened the door, barely having to dip his head to get through.

Tylendel followed first, hunching his shoulders to get through, and then Staven, who had considerably more difficulty and had to get down on all fours.

The room they entered was an odd shape, dusty and filled with broken bits of furniture, likely a long-forgotten storage room.

“What even is this place?” Staven asked, crossing the small space and peering out one of the windows.

Vanyel shrugged and perched on one of the dusty chairs shoved against one wall.

“Father says grandfather changed his mind a lot when the Keep was being renovated, so things got changed while they were being built. I think this was supposed to be part of a stairwell.”

“That does explain some things,” Staven replied. He glanced over at Tylendel. He didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, which Staven supposed was too much to hope for, but he seemed more interested in their conversation than he had with other people. Staven guessed that meant he should spend more time with Vanyel in the future. It was the first sign of his brother making any sort of progress.

At first when Tylendel had stopped speaking out loud, Staven had been angry, and had yelled at him, because he was also hurt by his uncle sending them away but _he_ hadn’t shut out his twin for no reason like Tylendel had. Then, when yelling and storming off and refusing to even look at Tylendel had done nothing, he’d grown worried. He’d apologized and tried to comfort him as they travelled to Forst Reach with a couple of armsmen, but had likewise gotten no response. The last day before they’d arrived at their destination, he’d given up. So his brother didn’t talk anymore. That was fine. Staven could deal with that. Tylendel would still sometimes use their mental link, communicating to Staven through impressions and emotions rather than words. That was good enough for him, even if all the adults were still fussing over Tylendel seemingly going mute.

Vanyel’s legs swung a little, toes just barely grazing the floor, sending up little puffs of dust. “I’m good at finding places like this, but this is my favourite.”

“How’d you find it?” Staven asked. The library itself didn’t look like many people used it, and the door had been deep inside and unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it.

“I like to read,” Vanyel mumbled, a bit self-consciously. The other boys made fun of him for it, especially when the tutors praised him for learning so quickly. He’d decided not long ago that it was better to stop raising his hand when the tutor asked them a question. He’d rather be right and not get teased for it than answer and have the boys be angry for not knowing and putting frogs in his bed again.

Staven raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask further. He thought Vanyel was a bit young to prefer books over other things little kids did with their time, but Vanyel seemed rather embarrassed about it, so he said nothing.

“Do you like to read?” Vanyel asked. Staven started to reply, but was startled to notice that the question had been directed at Tylendel.

“I do... Staven doesn’t. He’s too dumb to understand big words,” Tylendel said with a tiny, crooked smile.

“You are the worst little brother,” Staven said hotly, before he even had time to be surprised by Tylendel speaking.

“None of my cousins like to read either. Mekeal’s too little to read, but he doesn’t like to sit still and listen to stories either,” Vanyel said to Tylendel, pouting a little.

Staven glanced out the window. The last crescent of the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the light was quickly fading.

“We should probably go back soon,” he said, “Or they’ll send an adult looking for us.”

The three of them left the room, and Stave. Couldn't help but shoot a grateful look at the useful little hideaway

~ 

Vanyel darted into the library, hands clutching an armful of papers to his chest. He stumbled to a halt in front of the hidden room, a lone sheet of paper fluttering to the floor.

He hesitated at the door, uncertain now that he’d arrived if he should enter. Tylendel and Staven had disappeared the moment the boys were let free for the rest of the afternoon, and he was pretty sure he knew where they were.

The hidden room had been his hiding place first, but he’d shown it to them, so he couldn’t count on no one being in there like he used to. What if they didn’t want to share with him? Staven had been looking for somewhere quiet and not full of people, maybe they’d be mad at Vanyel for invading their space.

Another piece of paper slipped out of his tenuous grip and slipped to the floor, already crumpled and covered in ink.

The sight of his ruined sheet music settled it. He needed to find somewhere away from the other boys to keep it all safe. They’d though it would be funny to write (in very poor penmanship) rude words all over the sheets for Windrider Unchained and it had only been because he’d heard them laughing that he’d managed to salvage the rest before they could receive the same treatment.

Maybe if he was lucky the twins would be somewhere else, in any of the many odd corners of the Keep. He squared his shoulders and, carefully balancing the paper in one arm, pushed the door open.

Staven was slumped against one wall, fiddling with something in his hands, while Tylendel was seated on the floor next to the window, peering out at the rain dripping against the glass.

Vanyel froze just in front of the doorway, not daring to step farther in.

Would they tell him to go away?

~

At the sound of the half-height door opening, Staven looked up from the very badly shaped dog he was attempting to whittle.

Vanyel stood just inside the doorway, arms full of papers, face looking white but determined.

“Hope you don’t mind us borrowing your hiding place,” Staven said when Vanyel didn’t move or even greet them.

At his words Staven could almost see the tension run off Vanyel’s shoulders. He shut the door behind himself and set the stack of papers on the floor, beginning to sort through them.

“That’s okay,” Vanyel said quietly, without looking up.

“What’s all that?” Staven asked, abandoning his attempt at whittling. Tylendel had always been better at it than him.

“Sheet music,” Vanyel said absently, more focused on smoothing out a piece that had been hopelessly crumpled.

“You know how to play an instrument?” Staven asked curiously, peering over Vanyel’s shoulder. The notation was hopelessly confusing to his eye, but the ink smeared all over one section certainly didn’t help.

“Mother got me a tutor as a present when I turned seven,” Vanyel said, eyes darting over the Staven and then back down to the papers, as if assessing his response.

“Our mother tried to teach us when we were younger,” Staven volunteered when Vanyel shot him a second, somewhat nervous look.

“She said we sounded like a rooster being strangled,” Tylendel said unexpectedly from the other side of the small room.

“The lessons didn’t last long,” Staven agreed, feeling a rush of warmth at Tylendel finally speaking again. He hadn’t since the day Vanyel had shown them the hidden room the week previous and Staven had begun to think it would be a one-time incident.

Tylendel sent back the mental equivalent of a hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, with just a wisp of sadness tinging it.

“Father grumbles about the cost,” Vanyel said, settling back on his heels, satisfied with his work. Nothing could be done to remove the ink his cousins had splashed on it, but the worst of the creases had been smoothed out, and he’d sorted them back into their proper order. “So I have to learn as much as I can before he makes Mother get rid of the tutor.”

“I’m sure you’re learning quickly,” Staven said, a bit at a loss. He’d gotten the impression from his mother that being skilled in music was a good trait to have, but given the way he’d heard the other boys talk about Vanyel it didn’t seem like the same could be said at Forst Reach. Though they were much closer to Haven, it seemed like everything was much more rough and unrefined than at home, maybe because of the taste of the Lord Holder himself.

“Did you come to practice?” Tylendel asked, actually turning away from the window. Staven doubted Tylendel had intended to, but Staven got a wisp of longing, hoping for music he guessed.

Vanyel shook his head and carefully stacked the papers in one corner of the room. “No I just wanted to put this in here before I had to go to my lesson.”

Staven nodded, guessing that if the other boys teased him about music lessons then they also played pranks on him for it too. He’d done the same to Tylendel when he’d tried his hand at sketching, and Tylendel had gotten his revenge when Staven had attempted to impress one of their visiting older cousins. It was simply the way it was with brothers and relatives, though he guessed it was worse with how many Vanyel had. Hiding important things away like music sheets was probably a good idea, and Vanyel would probably get them all back somehow.

Vanyel glanced at Tylendel, who had turned back to stare at the rain on the window again.

“See you later,” Staven said to Vanyel who was shooting Tylendel a confused look.

Vanyel nodded and ducked out of the room.

Staven glanced at Tylendel and sighed, going back to trying to whittle.

~

It was long past the witching hour when Vanyel ran into the library, even the servants having gone to bed. His bare feet made wet slapping sounds against the stone floor, echoing like a church bell in the still night air.

He didn’t hesitate entering the hidden room, sob shaking his shoulders silently. It felt too quiet and peaceful there to disturb it even with his hitching breaths.

Illuminated by the moonlight, there was a figure seated by the window.

Vanyel let out a small shriek, stumbling over his own feet and falling backwards to the floor.

The figure turned to him sharply, moonlight catching on the tear tracks on his cheeks that matched Vanyel’s own.

“Tylendel?” Vanyel asked, crawling to his feet and coming closer.

Tylendel dipped his head silently and curled his knees into his chest.

“Are you okay?” Vanyel asked, his own tears slowing to a halt with this distraction.

Tylendel considered this for a moment and then shrugged, chin dipping in towards his chest.

Vanyel bit his lip. Tylendel never talked much, so he guessed it wouldn’t be weird for him not to say anything but...

“Two of my cousins thought it would be funny to dump water on me after I fell asleep,” Vanyel said quietly, picking at the sodden sleeves of his nightclothes that clung to his gooseflesh covered arms.

“I was dreaming and thought I was drowning and screamed so loud I woke up everyone in the room,” Vanyel continued when his first words had Tylendel raise his head, “And I ran here because I was embarrassed.”

“Why... would they do that?” Tylendel asked slowly, like the words took an effort to form.

Vanyel shrugged, feeling his ears pink. “I don’t know they like to pick on me since I’m younger and smaller than them.”

He knew why; they hadn’t known an answer to a question asked in lessons that morning, and they’d been embarrassed by a boy five years younger than them answering it with ease.

Vanyel sighed. It wasn’t his fault he remembered lessons easily, no more than they were at fault for being better at arms practice. Vanyel had started earlier that year, and he already knew he was always going to be completely hopeless at it, not in the least because of how much the armsmaster terrified him with his booming voice and impressive scowl.

“I had a nightmare,” Tylendel said, hands clenched against his curled-up knees.

“About what?”

Vanyel sat down across from Tylendel, mirroring his pose. He shivered at the cool touch of the stone floor against his legs. It was a bit chilly in the hidden room, with his wet clothes and the chimney-wall not providing any heat since it was far enough into spring that fires weren’t being kept in all rooms through the night.

“My father dying,” Tylendel said. He didn’t sound sad or scared like Vanyel would expect, just tired. Vanyel felt a little silly for being so upset over a bit of water compared to an awful dream like that. He certainly wasn’t close with his own father, but dreaming about him dead sounded terrible nevertheless.

“You’re safe here,” Vanyel said, trying to sound comforting but sounding rather feeble to his own ears. He desperately wanted to ask if Tylendel’s father was actually alive and if it was just a bad dream, but even at nine he knew that wouldn’t be a bad question to ask if the answer was no.

Tylendel dipped his head in agreement with Vanyel. “It’s why Uncle sent us here,” he said, glancing up through his lashes at Vanyel, “He said it would be safer here.”

Vanyel bit his lip. Would it also be a bad question to ask what Tylendel and Staven would be safe from? He thought it might be.

“What was your dream like?” He asked instead. “Lissa, my older sister, used to ask me that when I had bad dreams and telling her made me feel better because usually I’d hear how silly it really was- n-not that I think your dream was silly,” he hastened to add, though Tylendel hardly looked offended.

“Not much really happened. Father was riding a white horse down the road towards the market, and I knew that someone was hiding in the trees but I couldn’t tell him and then he was shot in the chest with a crossbow.”

Vanyel shivered. Tylendel’s dreams we definitely a lot scarier than his about having to fight his eight-feet-tall cousins with only a butter knife.

“And then what happened?” Vanyel asked.

“I saw who shot him. It was a man, only his face kept changing, except for his teeth, they were enormous and he was smiling right at me even though I was so far away on the road.”

“People can’t change faces,” Vanyel said, trying to sound like he wasn’t shaken by Tylendel’s nightmare, “So it was definitely a dream.”

“Father didn’t die from a crossbow either,” Tylendel replied, but he sounded less absent than before, so Vanyel thought he might have been helping somehow. “He was poisoned, or at least Uncle thinks so, but we can’t prove that he was.”

“Poisoned?” Vanyel whispered. It sounded like something out of a story, not something that could happen to someone’s father.

“Uncle sent Staven here so he could grow up and learn to become Lord Holder without being in danger and he sent me so that Staven didn’t come home the minute the armsmen left him here,” Tylendel said, a tiny hint of amusement in his voice when he mentioned Staven.

“I wish I had a twin,” Vanyel said wistfully. Liss was his favourite sibling, head and shoulders over Mekeal who had gone from a boring baby who couldn’t play much to an annoying, loud baby who didn’t like any of Vanyel’s games, but Liss wasn’t the same as a twin, she was a lot older. If he had a twin maybe he could play hide and go seek, or tag or play pretend down at the creek without worrying about being pushed into the slimy green mud.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Tylendel asked

Vanyel nodded eagerly.

“Me and Staven can talk without using words,” Tylendel said, smiling a tiny secretive smile.

Frowning in confusion, Vanyel asked, “Like with your hands like mute people? One of the bakers in the village does that too. It’s pretty neat. I asked him to teach me but he laughed at me.”

Tylendel shook his head. “No like, we can _think_ things at each other, no matter how far away. Right now he’s sleeping, his mind feels fuzzy, but I think he’s dreaming about fishing. We used to use it to cheat on tests during lessons until the tutor figured out we were cheating somehow and started giving us tests with different questions.”

Vanyel stared at him, bug-eyed. This _definitely_ sounded like something out of a story, the sort of thing a hero could do and would use to save townspeople.

“That’s so amazing,” he breathed, in awe.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Tylendel warned, “We haven’t told anyone before. Staven might get mad that I told you, but I trust you and I think he does too.”

Vanyel nodded vigorously. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“Thank you,” Tylendel said and patted him on the shoulder, startling when his hand came away damp. He must have forgotten why Vanyel had come to the hidden room in the first place.

“You must be freezing,” Tylendel said, shifting closer.

“I’m not that cold,” Vanyel lied, his skin covered in goose bumps. He didn’t want Tylendel to suggest they go back to their own beds; his would still be wet and he wasn’t sure it had been long enough for all of the boys to have gone back to sleep and not be hanging around waiting to laugh at him.

“Don’t be silly,” Tylendel said and crouched, pulling out a quilt he must have been sitting on the whole time, “Come here. We can both warm up a bit.”

Cautiously, Vanyel sat next to Tylendel and allowed the large quilt to be wrapped around the two of them. He was still uncomfortably wet, but he was much warmer sharing body heat and not sitting on the stone floor.

They sat in silence for candlemarks, and Vanyel’s eyes very slowly got heavier and heavier and soon enough he let his eyes shut, head drooping to the side.

For his part, Tylendel was half asleep and shifted obligingly when Vanyel’s head came to rest on his upper arm.

The two boys gradually slumped to the floor in a heap, quilt tangled around them, sleeping soundly as the sun crept over the horizon.

~

: _Tylendel?_ :

He groaned, sticking his face into the quilt, away from the weak morning sun. His bed felt oddly uncomfortable that morning, but he wasn’t about to get up sooner than necessary.

: _Tylendel?_ : Staven repeated, sounding frantic.

At once Tylendel remembered that his bed felt uncomfortable because it was the floor of the hidden room.

: _I’m okay, don’t fuss,_ : he sleepily sent back to Staven, quelling the rising panic he could feel was not his own. He himself felt rather relaxed and comfortable for all that he had been sleeping on the floor.

: _Where are you? Why aren’t you in your bed?_ : Staven demanded, anxiety giving way to irritation.

: _I had a nightmare, couldn’t stay in bed, so I went to the room in the library, but I fell asleep._ :

Beside him, Vanyel stirred, but didn’t seem to wake, breathing still slow and even. It could only have been a few candlemarks or so since they had fallen asleep, Vanyel’s clothing was still damp and Tylendel’s back only ached a little from sleeping in such an odd position on the floor.

: _You could have woken me up,_ : Staven grumbled. Tylendel felt Staven get out of bed and silently head for the door, careful not to wake anyone up.

: _It was just a nightmare. I just needed to be somewhere else, I didn’t think I would fall asleep,_ : Tylendel replied. In all honesty, even if he had thought he could sleep again, he wouldn’t have woken Staven up. Staven didn’t have as many nightmares as Tylendel did, but only because he refused to sleep. He’d go to bed so no one would notice, and close his eyes and feign sleep, but Tylendel would feel the faint buzz of thoughts coming from his mind that meant he was awake. Staven needed every minute of sleep he allowed himself, and waking him over a dream that had happened already twice that week wasn’t something Tylendel was willing to do.

: _Little brother if you don’t get out of this bad habit, I’m going to put a damn bell on you,_ : Staven grumbled. Tylendel was fairly certain that Staven wasn’t serious, but just in case he’d have to be more careful about being back before he woke up the next few days.

He could feel the hint of cool stone under Staven’s bare feet, so he assumed he was coming to find him.

Vanyel rolled from his back to his side, facing away from Tylendel. His face scrunched in discomfort when his movement resulted in him rolling out of the warm cocoon of the quilt onto the floor.

Tylendel sat up properly against the wall and draped the quilt more evenly over the two of them. Sunlight crept across the floor, making long shadows and glinting off of Vanyel’s dark hair.

He didn’t know why, but being around Vanyel made him feel better, starting with their first meeting in the hallway weeks previous. It was like the floating, disoriented fog that had engulfed his mind the moment he had been told of his father’s death lifted somewhat, making things clearer.

Staven entered the room, the door swinging open with a creak that sounded like a gunshot in the still morning air but would have been beyond notice had it been a different time in the day. Vanyel stirred at the noise, but continued to sleep.

Staven’s eyebrows rose upon noticing that Tylendel wasn’t alone.

“How long has he been here?” He asked, voice low, but still seeming too loud.

: _A few candlemarks. He didn’t know I was here,_ : Tylendel replied. He felt centered enough he could have chosen to speak out loud, and given the downward twist of Staven’s mouth it would have been appreciated, but he thought that at least one of them should enjoy more than a handful of sleep before having to sit through hours of lessons that day.

: _And you let him stay?:_ Staven asked, concern and surprise colouring his words.

: _It was his hiding place first,_ : Tylendel replied, despite the fact that they both knew if Tylendel hadn’t wanted Vanyel around he could have left or found a way of shooing him away.

Staven couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy that he quickly stomped out before Tylendel could sense a hint of it. His brother wouldn’t talk to him but he would talk to Vanyel, and wouldn’t wake him when he had a nightmare they both still had but would allow a stranger to stay with him. He knew he should have been grateful for any improvement in Tylendel’s wellbeing, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he, his brother’s twin and closest ally, wasn’t enough this time.

: _Why is he all wet?_ : He asked instead of asking ‘ _Why am I not enough_?’

: _His cousins played a prank on him,_ : Tylendel said, glancing at Vanyel, who now was only a lump of quilt with a hint of damp hair peeking out at one end.

: _Living here has never made me happier to only have one brother,_ : Staven said, thinking of the seemingly endless stream of Ashkevron boys crammed into the attic-level rooms.

: _You’re trouble enough for five of his cousins,_ : Tylendel retorted wryly.

Staven couldn’t help but feel a thrill at his brother actually starting to show a sense of humor again. If this was what being around Vanyel produced, he would just have to ignore his brother letting in Vanyel where he once let in Staven.

~

It was a shockingly hot spring day after the weeks of rain and mud they’d endured. The air nearly shimmered with condensation and steam as the land began the long process of drying out. The near spotless blue sky called with a nigh irresistible siren call after so many days of grey drizzly skies. Nearly half of the younglings in Forst Reach snuck out of their classes to enjoy the sudden change in weather, but the adults weren’t immune to the call either. It was barely past luncheon when the tutor threw up his hands in defeat and told them class was dismissed.

Most of the boys and many of the girls congregated in an empty glade outside the keep proper to play blind man’s bluff.

Staven had no desire to join them, knowing the generally rowdy Ashkevron lot it would quickly degenerate into glorified wrestling. In any case, as nice as the hidden room in the library was, it would be nice to escape the masses of people outdoors.

Tylendel, however, seemed to have different ideas.

Immediately after lessons were dismissed, while everyone else streamed outdoors, Tylendel followed Vanyel up to the library. Staven shot the beautifully sunny day outside the window one last longing look and followed them both upstairs.

: _Stop pouting_ ,: Tylendel sent, smirking over his shoulder at Staven as they shimmied into the hidden room. Eventually, they would have to find another way in- Staven had already had a growth spurt and Tylendel was just beginning one as well.

: _But it’s so nice out! Why are we trapping ourselves inside when even that stuffy old fart let us go?:_ Staven replied, unable to hide a grin. Tylendel had been speaking more and more to him through their minds and even a bit more often out loud too. Whatever inexplicable magic Vanyel worked on Tylendel, Staven was grateful for it.

“I wanted to show you both something!” Vanyel chirruped once all three of them were settled on the floor. He had a lute across his lap and an unusually enormous smile on his face.

“You’re going to play?” Tylendel asked, looking excited. He settled back further against the wall in a little excited wiggle, his elbow bumping into Staven’s.

“I’m not very good yet, Vanyel said, uncertainty creeping onto his face. “But I practiced a bunch and my tutor said-”

“Just play already!” Staven teased

Tylendel shot him a mental equivalent of a bonk on the head along with a quick frown and then smiled encouragingly at Vanyel.

He sighed deeply and then bent over the lute and began to play.

It was- pretty fantastic. Staven was hardly an expert, but Vanyel was pretty amazing, peppering out a little simple tune without hesitation, humming under his breath.

When the song ended, Vanyel set his instrument aside and looked up at the two of them, expression guarded, like he expected Staven and Tylendel to tear into him.

Sometimes Staven really wanted to punch each and every occupant of Forst Reach, if only just for that expression he saw too often.

“That was amazing!” Tylendel said, beaming at Vanyel and scrambling over to yank him into a tight hug. Vanyel’s face turned bright red.

“T-t-thank you,” Vanyel stammered out. “Lissa said it was good too. I’m glad you also liked it.”

“You didn’t play to us first? I am completely offended,” Staven said mock-seriously.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t awful first,” Vanyel protested.

“It was incredible, Vanyel. I can’t believe you only started two years ago!” Staven added, when it was clear Vanyel didn’t realize Staven was joking. “Now can we go outside?” He added plaintively.

“I want to hear another song,” Tylendel said, looking to Vanyel pleadingly. “Please?”

Vanyel blinked, looking startled. Then the biggest smile Staven had ever seen on anyone broke out across his face.

“Okay!”

~

Staven and Tylendel were the _best_. Vanyel decided that not long after meeting them. They spent all their free time together, and turned up their noses at the other boys, especially the ones who went out of their way to pick on Vanyel. Staven glowered at anyone who tries to say anything mean about the twins to their faces, and loomed menacingly with his new couple of inches of height on the occasions when that fails. All Tylendel had to do was stare vacantly to scare people off, most everyone at Forst Reach was discomfited by his near-muteness.

Vanyel was torn between jealousy and hero worship.

“I think Jessi was eyeing me up at breakfast,” Staven remarked, picking apart a flower piece by piece. He sounded exceptionally pleased by this idea. Vanyel had no idea why. Jessi’s voice was grating and all she ever talked about are dresses, not to mention the fact that her nose made her look like a rabbit.

“She was confused why you’ve done that to your hair,” Tylendel replied from where he’s sprawled on the ground, eyes closed and bathing in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Ladies think it looks nice,” Staven said with an authority he didn’t actually have, touching the weirdly uneven cut he’d given it. There was no need for his brother or best friend to know that it was the result of part of his hair being singed off while doing something foolish.

“Gross,” Vanyel and Tylendel said at the same time, faces mirror images of disgust.

“Aren’t either of you curious about it?” Staven asked, looking a little shy, unusual for him.

“About what?” Vanyel asked cluelessly.

“Being with ladies,” Staven replied, turning a bit pink. “You know, bedding them.”

“Gross,” Vanyel said, wrinkling his nose.

“Maybe...” Tylendel said, looking thoughtful. “I dunno, it sounds kind of weird.”

“A good kind of weird,” Staven argued, though he secretly agreed a little.

Vanyel rolled his eyes and went back to the book he had smuggled out of the library. Staven might have been the best, but he was also really, really dumb sometimes.

~

Less than a month later, Vanyel discovered that not only was Staven really, really dumb sometimes, Tylendel could be too.

“Why?” He asked Tylendel, face screwed up in a scowl, tiny hands on his hips. Tylendel had finally hit his growth spurt like his twin brother, and while not as tall as Staven was, was now significantly taller. At nine years old, or ‘nearly ten’ as Vanyel insisted on saying every time it was brought up, he was significantly shorter and smaller than the twins, who had recently hit twelve. It annoyed him to no end, since it made him feel much younger than his best friends rather than only two years and a few months. He pretended it was simply because he didn’t like being so much smaller, but secretly he worried they’d get bored of hanging around a baby like him and would leave him behind.

Tylendel shrugged and said simply, “Staven said it would be a good idea. This way I’ll sort of know what I’m doing when I’m older.”

“That’s stupid,” Vanyel said bluntly. “And weird. He’s your brother. And this lady is like five years older than Staven _and_  she's my cousin. That makes this even weirder.”

“She’s your cousin?” Tylendel asked, frowning. Lady Ylena was seventeen, very pretty, and was visiting Forst Reach for the midsummer festival for a short time. She was also _very_ interested in his twin brother, and looked nothing like Vanyel or the rest of Vanyel’s family, who all looked more like Withen than Treesa.

“Second, twice removed, or something,” Vanyel said dismissively. His enormous family seemed normal to him, but Tylendel and Staven couldn’t stop marveling at how it seemed to encompass half the country. They only had each other, their ailing mother, and their uncle back home. “Mother said she is Great Aunt Andi’s great-great granddaughter, which makes her the heir to Mother’s family’s estate, so we have to be nice to her since they’re really, really rich.”

“Well, this will make her happy,” Tylendel replied with a laugh he couldn’t stifle. Vanyel rolled his eyes and continued to look annoyed.

“What if it hurts you?” He asked, in a very small voice.

Tylendel instantly felt awful. Vanyel was obviously nervous about the whole thing, and Tylendel had not stopped teasing him about the whole thing for the last candlemark.

“Why would it hurt? Staven and I had talked to each other like this since we were born. It’s mostly the same,” Tylendel pointed out.

Vanyel shrugged and dug the toe of his shoe into the grass and wouldn’t meet Tylendel’s gaze. “Dunno,” he said, voice still very small. “Just have a bad feeling, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t you come- and sit outside my room?” Tylendel asked, hastily stopping himself from saying ‘wait with me’ when he realized what exactly that would mean. He’d listened in on Staven doing things before- mostly when he was trapped in lessons and Staven had been learning more interesting Lord Holder things. Vanyel had been with him when he’d done that before. This was different. Vanyel being there would be exceptionally weird and wrong. But if letting him sit outside would make him less worried...

Vanyel bit his lip and then looked up at Tylendel. His dark eyes were still filled with worry.

“How about I stay down the hall and you yell for me if something goes wrong. I can get the healer or something,” he offered.

“Alright,” Tylendel agreed, thinking it was a bit much, but would do anything to appease Vanyel.

~

Several hours later, long after dinner had ended, Tylendel was starting to feel a little grateful.

He nervously wiped his hands on his tunic and fidgeted anxiously. He’d decided that the secret room in the library was the best place to use, since he shared a room with a half dozen Ashkevron boys and fosterlings he was guaranteed to be interrupted somehow. Vanyel was hidden somewhere in the library, mostly out of earshot, but would be able to hear him if he shouted loud enough. Tylendel didn’t want to think about how comforting that was. He had a feeling Staven had convinced him of trying something remarkably stupid, but he couldn’t back down at that point, Staven would never let him live it down.

~

On the other side of the keep, Staven sat on the edge of a bed in the nicest guest chamber of Forst Reach and thought that he might be doing something remarkably stupid.

He was missing his tunic, and his pants were half undone. Lady Ylena smiled at him, her strawberry blonde hair spilling over her bare shoulders in a messy tumble.

“Well,” she said in a sultry whisper, “aren’t you going to help me out of this awful dress. It’s been so irritating all evening.”

Staven bit his lip and stood. He couldn’t back down, Tylendel would make fun of him for weeks on end.

~

Vanyel sat in the far corner of the library, failing to read a book about Bard Lyra, unable to concentrate for the nervousness coursing through him. He was hidden from view by two bookcases and a chair that he’d moved to create a temporary hide-out on the unlikely chance that one of his relatives actually visited the library. Few did, and it was usually to have an argument they didn’t want everyone else overhearing.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Even if he thought what Tylendel and Staven were doing was dumb and gross, he didn’t see how it could be especially dangerous. And yet...

He gave up on the book, carefully setting it aside and curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them, feeling small and scared and alone like he hadn’t since he’d met Staven and Tylendel.

He sat there for a very long time, growing more and more concerned for no discernable reason when he heard Tylendel scream, “VANYEL!”

~

Tylendel was losing himself.

It was an awful, frightening thing that was all too familiar. After his father’s death and his uncle’s abrupt decision to send his nephews away, Tylendel had felt like he was half out of his body, torn between it, Staven’s mind and someplace else altogether. It had been a struggle to focus on anything happening around him, much less speak. Talking to Staven had been easiest within their minds, but Tylendel had been filled with such rage- at his father for dying, his uncle for abandoning them, their mother for losing herself to insanity, and most of all the poisoner who’d killed his father. Somehow, Vanyel had helped him. It was so much easier to focus on his own body when his friend was around. He was the easiest thing to focus on, to ground Tylendel’s wandering mind, even more than Staven.

This felt a thousand times worse than the worst moment after his father’s death.

Deep within him, in some intangible place, something _snapped_.

Tylendel couldn’t feel his body- he didn’t have a body, he was-

_-Staven holding Lady Ylena down by her freckled shoulders, throwing his head back-_

_-a bird over the training salle swooping down to snatch up a tasty worm-_

_-Vanyel huddled in a corner, torn up by fear and loneliness-_

_-a body slumped on the floor, limbs jerking uncoordinatedly as he writhed in pain/pleasure/pain, himself? He used the last of his strength to shout for the one thing that could fix this-_

“VANYEL!”

~

Vanyel heard Tylendel’s cry for help and didn’t need to even think before he was on his feet, racing through the library, nearly breaking his knees in his haste to duck through the hidden room’s tiny door.

The room was chaos, with Tylendel at the very center of it. Everything that had been left in the room was flying around in a destructive, violent circle. Chairs, books, blankets, Vanyel’s sheet music- all ripping itself apart and slamming into each other and the walls and floor.

Vanyel had never seen anything like it. He was completely frozen in fear. He had no idea what to do- or even which adult he could run and fetch to fix this. What was happening?

Tylendel groaned in pain, arms jerking backwards onto the stone floor in repetitive, painful thuds.

“Tylendel!” Vanyel shouted, ducking a torn-apart book that flew at his head. “Wake up!”

Tylendel didn’t respond, but his head rolled to face Vanyel, his face twisted in pain, his eyes completely vacant.

 _Like a dead man’s_ , Vanyel couldn’t help but think, and then shook himself for being ridiculous.

“It’s okay, you just have to wake up,” he repeated. He slowly approached Tylendel’s prone form, dodging most of the flying objects, though a broken piece of wood from a chair clipped his arm, making him bleed. He ignored that and inched forward, repeating, “Please Tylendel, you need to wake up.”

“Who...?” Tylendel whispered, barely audible over the chaos of the flying objects breaking and slamming into each other over head.

“It’s Vanyel,” Vanyel replied, voice and hands shaking at his closest friend not recognizing him.

“...am I?” Tylendel finished, blinking slowly, some small measure of comprehension coming back into his expression.

“You- you’re Tylendel Frelennye,” Vanyel said, finally reaching his side. He sat down next to him slowly and tried to grab his hand, but Tylendel’s arm jerked violently out of his reach, still spasming eerily.

“Your twin brother is Staven Frelennye. You’re twelve years old. You like meat buns and hate tomatoes. You’re my best- best friend,” Vanyel continued, unable to keep holding back the tears that had been budding to moment he’d entered the room.

Tylendel blinked again, the floating objects slowing down somewhat. A few fell to the floor, destroyed but no longer dangerous.

“Tylendel?” Tylendel repeated, eyes starting to focus.

“Yes,” Vanyel said, scrubbing a frustrated hand at his eyes. Of all the stupid times to start crying! Tylendel needed him! “That’s your name. You came to Forst Reach six months ago.”

“Vanyel,” Tylendel said slowly and then jerked upright, the remaining floating objects tumbling to the floor abruptly. Tylendel jerked his head around, taking in the destruction in the room. “Great good gods, what happened?” He demanded, turning back to Vanyel. His eyes were wide with fear. “Did- did I do this?” He whispered.

Vanyel bit his lip and then shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know,” he said quietly. “You shouted for me, and when I came in everything was flying around the room and being ripped into pieces.

“Lord and Lady,” Tylendel said, starting to shake as he looked around the room again. Every single object had been torn to pieces and lay on the floor in a perfect circle around them.

“It’s okay,” Vanyel said quickly, before Tylendel could properly start wallowing in shame. “You didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

“I’m a monster,” Tylendel said hollowly, and then ripped himself out of Vanyel’s reach and leapt to his feet. “I- I’m not safe to be around,” he said, voice shaking. “What if I hurt you too? You need to leave right now!”

“But you didn’t!” Vanyel protested, and then carefully tucked his injured arm out of sight. “I know you didn’t mean to! It has to be magic, or something, right? Like you and Staven talking in each other’s heads!”

Tylendel didn’t look convinced, but also no longer looked like he was about to leap out the library window to get away from Vanyel.

“So, we should tell him and-”

“No!” Tylendel shouted, and slapped a hand over his mouth when Vanyel jumped, looking very pale and afraid. Afraid of _Tylendel_. Tylendel felt sick. “No,” he repeated, in a normal tone. “Don’t- please don’t. If... If this has something to do with what I was doing with Staven, he’ll blame himself. He always blames himself for anything that happens to me, like being half a candlemark older than me makes him responsible.”

Vanyel frowned, but nodded anyways and said carefully, “Okay. I won’t tell. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Tylendel said and sank back down to his knees, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him.

The last thing he heard was Vanyel shouting his name, panicked. And then just silence.

~

“Wow, that must have been too much for you!”

The first thing Tylendel heard upon waking up was Staven making fun of him. It was not the most pleasant way to wake up.

He cracked an eye open and surveyed the room. He was laying on the floor of the hidden room, wrapped in a quilt, likely stolen from Vanyel’s bed given it was too short to cover Tylendel from shoulder to feet. All of the things that had been torn apart were gone, like they’d never been there at all. Vanyel was perched on the window sill, looking pale and worried, a book abandoned on his lap and a lit candle set at his feet. Staven was standing right next to the room’s tiny door, looking smug as hell. Tylendel felt like death and wanted to wipe the floor with his face until he stopped grinning like that.

“I am never doing that again,” Tylendel swore vehemently. “It was awful.”

“That’s not promising for your future, brother,” Staven said, still grinning. He eyed Vanyel and then said, with less smugness, “Vanyel, what’s wrong?”

“I’m starving!” Vanyel said, quickly slapping a pout across his face. “Can you go steal something from the kitchen? I did it last time and the cook chased me out and shouted a lot.”

Staven put up a show of being irritated, but agreed since he was always hungry- he had shot up another inch and a half recently and wasn’t showing any sign of slowing down and was constantly hungry.

Getting him out of the room was obviously Vanyel’s intention when he abandoned his book the moment Staven was gone

“I didn’t tell him,” Vanyel said, a hint of disapproval in his voice. “And I got rid of all the broken stuff. He got here right after me, it was really close.”

“Thank you,” Tylendel said with bone-deep relief. Suddenly a thought occurred to him- “Van! Your lute! Gods I’m-”

“Don’t worry, I forgot it in mother’s bower yesterday,” Vanyel said quickly.

“I am never letting that happen again,” Tylendel swore, and then flopped back down onto the floor in a careless sprawl. He was exhausted.

~

Exactly three weeks later, it happened again.

Tylendel had been outside with Vanyel, deep in the forest, reading letters from home. Staven had been stuck in a lesson about being a Lord Holder.

The first had been from an old friend who wrote to him occasionally. It was mostly local gossip Tylendel didn’t care for, but was genuinely sincere when he said he missed the Frelennye twins.

The second was from his uncle. His mother was dead. She’d eaten poisonous mushrooms, convinced by some hack that it would bring her father’s spirit back to life. She would see his father again, just not in this life.

Tylendel had no warning before he descended into chaos again.

He woke up, surrounded by a circle of broken branches, rocks larger than his head, and torn up dirt and grass. Vanyel was huddled at his side, very pale with a slowly oozing cut on his forehead.

“Oh Gods,” Tylendel said, stricken, eyes on the cut.

“Don’t be stupid,” Vanyel snapped, trying to hide his fear with irritation. “It’s just a tiny cut. I’ve had worse tripping over my own feet in arms practice.”

Tylendel slumped back on the ground, fear coursing through him. He’d thought that if he stayed out of Staven’s head, this wouldn’t happen again. It had happened anyways. There had been no warning- just the letter from his uncle.

His mother.

Tylendel bit back the urge to cry and, with great effort, sat up again.

“The letter?” He asked Vanyel, looking around for torn up bits of paper and saw none.

“I managed to save the one you were reading,” Vanyel said, voice soft. “The other one was gone before I could get it. Sorry.” He handed the letter over.

“It’s not your fault. Let’s get out of here before Staven sees all this,” Tylendel said, waving a hand at the circle of destruction around them.

Vanyel frowned. “You have to tell Staven before this happens again,” he insisted.

Tylendel ignored him and got to his feet.

It must have happened because he’d been upset by the letter. He just had to control his emotions, then it wouldn’t happen again.

~

It did happen. At first weeks apart, then mere days. By some miracle, it was always when Staven was gone. The few times Vanyel wasn’t there, the fits seemed to last years, though the longest was less than a candlemark. They were always much shorter when Vanyel was there to guide him back to his own body, like a dim light off a storm-tossed coast.

It happened again and again and again. Tylendel felt like he was losing his mind. Nothing seemed to trigger them anymore, or perhaps everything did. He didn’t speak to Staven through their minds any more, tried to control his emotions and avoid being startled- but nothing worked.

There was a monster within him.

Or maybe he was just a monster.

~

Staven frowned at his twin across the room used for lessons. Tylendel looked ill, skin pale and waxy, eyes unfocused, hair greasy and limp, bags under his eyes an unhealthy purple.

What scared Staven more was that he had stopped speaking to him through their minds entirely. It was almost like when their father had died, though at least this time Tylendel hadn’t stopped talked out loud.

Though it wasn’t terribly reassuring when the daft bastard wouldn’t actually talk about anything useful. He insisted he was fine, just a bit tired.

It had started almost before they had gotten the news about their mother, which had been over a month previous. Staven was starting to want to dangle his brother out a window until he confessed what was wrong. Staven had grown another inch, and his shoulders had broadened enough he struggled to slip through the hidden room’s door, so he positively towered over Tylendel. He’d be able to do it.

Vanyel was shooting Tylendel concerned looks too, and Staven knew that he knew what was wrong. Every time he’d tried to get the truth out of him though, he’d insisted he had no idea what Staven was talking about. Vanyel was an awful liar, so Tylendel had to have sworn him to secrecy.

The thought positively burned him through with jealousy. He’d managed to put his jealousy of Vanyel’s closeness with his twin aside, once they’d all become friends. But the thought of his brother telling Vanyel something he hid from his twin was almost enough to drive him insane with rage.

If Vanyel hadn’t looked so miserable and concerned, Staven would have wanted to dangle him out a window too.

~

Vanyel knew this couldn’t last. Sooner or later, Staven was going to find out. And when he did, Vanyel wasn’t sure who he’d strangle first, Vanyel for not telling him or Tylendel for keeping secrets.

The final nail in the coffin came on Vanyel’s tenth birthday. Birthdays were never really celebrated at Forst Reach, or at least Vanyel’s wasn’t. His father would clap him on the shoulder and mutter something insincere about being proud of him, the cooks would make a cake for everyone and his mother would sometimes secretly give him a gift that would anger his father when he found out about it- new stylish clothing, more sheet music, or something of the like. This year, she presented him with a gittern and Vanyel mentally took back every frustrated thought about her being flighty and inconsiderate. He loved it.

To celebrate the day, Vanyel, Staven and Tylendel decided to skip lessons and go out for a ride and not come back until right before dinner, so no one would shout at them until _after_ they’d gotten cake.

The day was glorious, beautifully sunny with a gentle wind that prevented it from becoming overwarm. Star was in a good mood, willing to gallop through the fields, tossing her mane with excitement. Tylendel hadn’t had a fit in nearly a week, which was the longest he’d gone in ages. Even Staven seemed like he was in a good mood, the first he’d had in weeks since he’d notice something was wrong with Tylendel.

Of course, that meant it couldn’t last.

The three of them snuck into the hall, ignoring the dour looks father and their tutor shot them from the high table, when Tylendel sucked in a breath in a way that Vanyel recognized.

“No,” he whispered despairingly. Tylendel met his eyes once, looking panicked and then succumbed to the fit.

~

It was complete chaos.

There was a split second where everyone stared in horror as the contents of every table in the room flew up into the air. Then Treesa fainted and, as if by cue, everyone started screaming and running to the door. One of the benches reared up, dumping those sitting on it to the floor, and began to fly around at rapid speeds. Another table tipped over and began to circle, half suspended in air, the other half dragging across the stone floor.

Withen grabbed his wife and hauled her from the room, quickly followed by Father Leren and Jervis, who had his sword out and batted a broken chair out of his way ruthlessly.

Staven stood frozen on the spot, eyes glued to his twin on the floor, at the center of the madness. Vanyel was not and ran towards him, ducked several projectiles and shouted, “TYLENDEL!”

A heavy metal platter clocked Staven on the head and he staggered sideways, and then was hit by a broken chunk of table and fell to the ground.

He lay there stunned for several minutes, and then managed to take in Vanyel bent over his twin, whispering frantically in his ear.

The madness continued for several long minutes, everything being torn to pieces, but abruptly halted with Tylendel jackknifing upright.

He looked around frantically and froze when he spotted Staven on the floor staring at him.

Though he was on the other side of the room, Staven heard him whisper “No”.

Staven scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room.

~

“What in god’s name happened to that boy?” Withen thundered at Father Leren. He stared into the hall, a complete war zone of broken dishes, furniture and soiled food. His oldest son and one of the Frelennye boys were at the center of it, huddled together on the floor. Withen did not like the way they clung together. It was unnatural.

“A demon, I suspect,” Father Leren said sternly. “I always said I thought there was something terribly wrong with those boys, did I not my lord? Though of course there was no way for you to have known,” he added smoothly.

“What can we do about him?” Withen asked, frowning at the boys. “Lord Frelennye would not be pleased to hear his nephew has come to harm in my care.”

“I expect it began long before he arrived here, my lord. There would have been nothing you could have done, none of us could have done had we known. I suggest we lock him up somewhere remote. I shall contact my order, and ask them to send for an exorcist to look at the boy. Perhaps he can still be saved.” The way he eyed both boys with disgust said he did not think it was the case, or that he’d rather it wasn’t.

“Tylendel is not a demon!” Vanyel shouted leaping to his feet, hands balled into fists. “It was an accident! He didn’t mean to break anything! And no one got hurt!”

Withen and Leren exchanged a look.

“The demon must have your son under its thrall,” Leren said firmly. “We must separate them before it’s too late.”

Withen grunted and hauled his son away from the Frelennye boy by the upper arm.

“Father! Let go! It isn’t his fault!” Vanyel shrieked, kicking and punching ineffectually at his father, his limbs too short to come into contact with him.

Father Leren hauled Tylendel to his feet, touching his bare skin as little as possible, a disgusted expression on his face.

“I’ll place him in one of the cells in the lowest level of the keep,” Father Leren said and strode off, making the shell-shocked Tylendel stumble after him.

Vanyel screamed louder and tried to jerk out of his father’s grip.

“Stop this nonsense, or I’ll lock you up myself!” Withen snarled at him.

At this, Vanyel seemed to crumple, his legs giving out and he began to sob.

“It wasn’t his fault,” he hiccupped, between sobs.

~

Staven was waiting for him, when Vanyel slipped into the hidden room.

“I’m sorry,” Vanyel said immediately.

Staven stared daggers at him, but did not respond.

“I should have told you,” Vanyel continued. Tears started streaking down his face again. “He made me promise not to tell you.”

Staven was silent for a long moment, still staring angrily at Vanyel, like he could pull him apart just with his eyes alone. Finally, he said, voice low and filled with rage, “You didn’t tell me because my brother made you promise.” He took a slow step forward. Staven was his friend, but somehow Vanyel was filled with fear and stumbled backwards, back hitting the wall. “You didn’t tell me when you knew you should, just because he asked you to.” Staven’s voice was steady and soft, but terrifying when combined with the anger behind his eyes. Vanyel started to cry harder, wanting to look away, to not meet his gaze, but couldn’t. Because this was his fault. “You put my brother, my only brother, one of my last remaining family members, my _twin_ at risk because of a stupid few words?”

Staven’s hand gripped Vanyel’s throat, not stopping his breath, but still applying pressure. Vanyel couldn’t help but think that if Staven hurt him, he deserved it.

“I’m sorry!” Vanyel sobbed, nearly choking with tears.

“Do you not value anything, not even family because your home is teeming with rotten people related to you? Or is it because you’re given every damn thing you could desire?” Staven asked, leaning in close to Vanyel’s face. He was so much taller he was looming over Vanyel. He could crush him like a bug.

“I didn’t want to! I begged him to tell you!” Vanyel cried, hands clutching at Staven’s tunic desperately.

Staven sneered and tossed him aside. “Like wanting to do something means anything. You didn’t do anything, and my brother could have been killed because of it,” he said, towering over Vanyel’s prone form. “Don’t ever come near me, or my brother ever again.”

With that, Staven climbed out the window and left, leaving Vanyel trembling and crying on the floor.

This was his fault.

~

The one good thing about growing up without many friends to occupy his time was that Vanyel knew Forst Reach and its baffling labyrinth of rooms better than anyone else did. It made him likely the only occupant of Forst Reach who could guess where Tylendel was being kept.

Back when the keep had actually served a strategic purpose in war, there had been need for cells to hold criminals and prisoners of war. When Vanyel’s grandfather had decided to renovate the entire keep, the bulk of the cells had been converted in wine cellars, cold storage and the like. However, there was a small corner of the bottommost level of the keep that had been untouched, likely because his grandfather had changed plans or gotten distracted by a different project.

In Vanyel’s lifetime, they’d always stood empty and unused, and were rather creepy, but he remembered stumbling across them when he’d been running away from one of the older fosterling boys who had been teasing him.

That had to be the cell Father Leren had mentioned to his father.

He waited in the hidden room until long after he was supposed to be in bed, and then waited a little longer to make sure the servants were in bed too. People were well used to Vanyel disappearing when he wanted to and reappearing later, so they no longer bothered to look for him, which suited Vanyel just fine in that instance.

He slipped through the keep on silent feet, freezing the moment he heard any noise. No one was in the halls, thankfully, and eventually managed to sneak down to the mostly forgotten cells through a door in the back of an unused linen closet.

Tylendel was sitting on the floor in the farthest cell, his clothing filthy and a blanket tossed aside. Vanyel could see holes in it where it looked like some sort of rodent had chewed on it.

“Tylendel!” he hissed. No one was around or would hear them, but somehow it seemed wrong to speak loudly in the remnants of a dungeon.

Tylendel’s head tipped up. His face was haggard, expression racked with exhaustion.

“Vanyel? What are you doing down here? Go away. I might hurt you.”

Vanyel barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, including the time you convinced Staven eating a worm was a good idea,” he snapped, and stomped up to the cell door. There was an enormous lock on it. Vanyel had no hope of breaking it to get Tylendel out, so he would have to find another way.

“Father Leren said there was a demon in me,” Tylendel said hollowly. “That I’ll kill someone eventually, it’s only a matter of time.”

“You’ve never hurt anyone!” Vanyel said hotly. “And if you have, it was always by accident. If you wanted to hurt someone you would have just thrown a table at them rather than drag it all around the room and make a mess!”

A hint of a smile appeared on Tylendel’s face, and then disappeared.

“You need to go, Van, before they see you down here. They already think you’re under my thrall or something. If they think you have a demon in you too...” Tylendel looked away, his voice growing rough with unshed tears. “Father Leren said the exorcist might have to kill me. I don’t want you to die too.”

Vanyel’s legs gave out and he sat down sharply, clinging to the bars of the cell.

“What?” He asked in a very small, thin voice. “No. They can’t do that.”

“If it’s the only way...” Tylendel said and trailed off hopelessly.

“No that’s stupid!” Vanyel declared and leapt back to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of the cell. “You never wanted to hurt anyone! I was almost always there, and you never did! Whatever is making the stuff move, it’s like it’s angry or lost or something. It’s confused.”

“What’s confused?” Tylendel asked.

“Whatever’s in you making stuff move when these fits happen,” Vanyel explained. “If I figure out what it’s looking for, maybe it will stop, and Father Leren won’t let an exorcist kill you!”

“So you do think there’s a demon in me?” Tylendel asked, sounding a little lost and hurt.

“No!” Vanyel said fiercely. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s no demon in you and _you_ aren’t a demon either. Father and Father Leren are stupid. You’re too good to have a demon in you!”

Tylendel smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile, it was resigned. Vanyel would have smacked him over the head in frustration if he could have reached far enough through the bars.

“Whatever you say, Van.”

“I’m going to fix this!” Vanyel declared, trying to ignore how defeated his best friend sounded.

Because it was his fault. He had to fix it.

~

Days passed and there was no more information on what would happen to Tylendel or when then exorcist would arrive or what he would do to Tylendel.

Staven refused to even look at Vanyel, leaving him much more free time than he’d had in months.

That was fine for Vanyel, he had many things he needed to do before the exorcist arrived.

He pestered his father and the priest about what an exorcist did and what demons were and how they knew Tylendel had a demon until his father shouted at him and Father Leren banned him from the chapel except for service.

The library was absolutely useless to Vanyel for the first time in his life, and the eighth time a book mentioned exorcists or demons and failed to give him any further information, he had to restrain himself from throwing it across the room.

His mother was even less help than usual, spending endless amounts of time in bed having vapors over ‘nearly being attacked by that wretched child’ and wouldn’t tell Vanyel anything. Vanyel wasn’t even sure why he tried,othe than desperation.

By the time a week had passed, Vanyel gave up on figuring out how to fix Tylendel or trick the exorcist into going away. He had to find a way for Tylendel to escape. And Staven too, since Vanyel knew he wouldn’t let his twin leave without him.

Some things were easy enough. He stole non-perishable food from the kitchen and hid it in his room in the library. Both brothers already had horses which made travel straightforward. Money was tricky, until Vanyel gave up trying to get it legitimately and just started taking it from everyone in the keep, just a few coins each to prevent any suspicion.

The hard part was the cell itself. The bars were closely spaced and embedded in stone floor, so Tylendel couldn’t squeeze through them and they couldn’t be ripped down or even bent or broken. The lock on the cell was heavy and well-made and couldn’t be pried open either.

Vanyel languished on this one most important step, while Tylendel despaired and gave into hopelessness even when Vanyel told him about all of the other things he’d done.

Vanyel himself was starting to despair when he was finally presented with a solution. He was stuck cleaning all of the training armor after arms practice because he’d skipped it all week to focus on his plans, and overheard a couple of the older boys talking.

“Where’d you get the wine?” One boy asked, voice hushed. Jervis was long gone, along with the other boys, so he likely didn’t realize Vanyel was just on the other side of the pillar.

“Down in the cellar, just had to jimmy the lock open, simple enough. Now I can grab whatever I want whenever,” a second boy said with a laugh.

Vanyel set down the cleaning cloth and oil and very carefully peered around the pillar. It was one of the fosterling boys talking to his older cousin Radevel, who was the second one to speak.

Vanyel instantly knew what to do. But how could he convince his cousin? It wasn’t like Radevel liked Vanyel in the slightest. But if Vanyel had something to trade him...

Reluctantly, Vanyel gathered up half of the money he’d gotten for Staven and Tylendel and took it to where Radevel often spent his afternoons alone.

He dumped the coins in Radevel’s lap and demanded, “Teach me to make locks open.”

Radevel looked down at the coins in his lap and back up at Vanyel.

“What?” He said, frowning in confusion.

“Teach me to open locks. I know you can do it. I heard you say so,” Vanyel repeated stubbornly.

“Where did you get all this?” Radevel asked, picking up one of the coins and inspecting it closely.

“Why do you care?” Vanyel shot back. “It’s all yours if you teach me.”

Radevel squinted at him and then sighed and said, “Alright, let me go get my picks.”

Lock picking did not come as easily to Vanyel as he had hoped, making him exceptionally nervous about how much time he had left. He applied himself with single mindsd devotion to learning with Radevel’s picks, skipping half his lessons and ignoring the lectures he got from his father, mother and tutor about it.

After four days, Vanyel finally got one of the basic locks Radevel had given him to open. It had taken an entire candlemark. He slipped down to Tylendel’s cell and tried to do the same on the lock there, just to see if he could do it.

To his despair, he discovered it was much more difficult than the other ones he’d been practicing with.

Another week passed, Vanyel took to spending his entire night fighting with the lock and sleeping in the day in his hidden room where no one would try to force him to go to lessons. He didn’t have time for lessons, he needed to make sure Father Leren didn’t get Tylendel killed.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Tylendel said one night. He sounded exhausted, though he spent nearly all of his time sleeping. Vanyel was sure it was because he barely ate or slept. He looked like a living corpse and if terrified him. Vanyel spent a good two candlemarks a night pestering Tylendel into eating something, _anything,_ which was precious time he could have used fighting with the stubborn lock.

“Yes I do!” Vanyel snapped back irritably. He was so tired, it was past the middle of the night and his eyes and hands ached from the dim light and the cold of the dungeon.

Tylendel didn’t reply, just smiled weakly like he thought his fate was already sealed, which made Vanyel want to dangle him out a window and shake him until he saw sense. Or get Staven to do it.

Staven, who still wouldn’t go near Vanyel. Staven who had taken to writing letters to his uncle begging for his help every day. Vanyel knew that was useless, his father made sure they never left the keep, but Vanyel knew there was no point telling Staven. He had to already know, but was doing something just to feel like he wasn’t doing nothing.

It was almost exactly a month after Tylendel had been placed in the cell when Vanyel finally managed to pick the lock on the cell.

He sat back on his heels, not certain he wasn’t seeing things. Radevel’s picks fell from his loose fingers and chimed like bells against the stone floor.

“Tylendel?” He whispered. “I think I’ve actually done it.”

Hesitantly, he pushed the cell door. It swung open easily and without protest.

Tylendel stared at him wide eyed and then staggered to his feet and fell to the ground in front of Vanyel and engulfed him in a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with tears.

“You’re welcome,” Vanyel whispered back, clinging to him desperately. He glanced over at the time candle he’d brought down with him since there were no windows to see where the sun was to track time. “It’s nearly morning,” Vanyel said, and made a face. He’d stayed too long, someone might notice him sneaking out of the basement, or come down and catch him while bringing Tylendel his meal.

“I’ll leave tomorrow night,” Tylendel said with determination.

“I’ll tell Staven,” Vanyel said. He was not looking forward to that conversation, but it would have to happen that day. “Don’t push the lock all the way closed, maybe they won’t notice it’s unlocked.”

“Thank you,” Tylendel repeated, eyes still full of tears of relief.

Vanyel smiled and then darted up the steps, praying no one would see him.

Luck was on his side and he made it all the way to his room in the library and collapsed into sleep the second he lay down. He woke hours later, hands aching and head fuzzy with sleep- he hadn’t slept deeply in weeks, too worried about his plan failing.

He’d just entered the hallway, planning on seeing if luncheon was still being served in the main hall, when one of his cousins cornered him.

“There you are!” She said, sounding exasperated and grabbed him by the forearm, hauling him down the stairs. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. All the children are supposed to gather in the main hall right now.”

“Why?” Vanyel asked, struggling to keep up, his body still half asleep.

She shrugged dismissively. “Don’t know. Apparently there’s a visitor, wants to see all of us all at once.”

Ice swept through his body, like all his blood had been replaced with it. The exorcist had arrived. Vanyel was too late.

He nearly stopped on the spot, or ran away, but his cousin’s grip on his arm was too strong and he ended up stumbling after her into the main hall anyways.

Everyone who wasn’t of age was gathered in clumps muttering to each other, from Josie who was coming of age in a fortnight, all the way down to little Prim who was not even a year old. Standing at the front of the room was a woman, dressed all in white. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid wrapped around her head and her expression said she’d seen all of them and found them lacking.

“That’s aunt Savil,” one of his cousins whispered to another cousin.

Vanyel frowned. He hadn’t known one of his aunts was an exorcist. Liss would have been disappointed for missing something so exciting.

“This will be a simple exam for each of you,” his aunt Savil announced. “I don’t expect to have any results from any of you, but it is my duty to check nonetheless. When I’m finished with you, please leave the room.”

That said, she approached the first child and placed her hand on his head and closed her eyes.

Vanyel bit his lip and tried to keep from shaking. Once she was done checking all of them for demons, would she go to Tylendel next? Or had she already done that while he was asleep? Perhaps she had and had already killed him!

So wrapped up in fear, Vanyel didn’t notice the number of people in the hall dwindling until it was his turn.

“You must be Vanyel,” she said, looking him up and down. “Withen’s oldest.”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” Vanyel squeaked. She nodded once and placed her hand on his head like she had with all of the other children. Vanyel felt something strange whoosh through him, intangible and yet not and fought to keep from shivering at the strange sensation.

“Very unusual,” she said and opened her eyes. “You have massive potential for many Gifts, but none of the channels have opened. I doubt they will with time, there’s no chance of you becoming a Herald.”

Vanyel blinked in confusion. That didn’t sound like it had anything to do with demons. In fact, he’d heard Heralds mentioned in some of his favourite songs. They were always heroes.

“What’s a gift?” he asked and then hastily corrected himself, “I mean I know what a gift is, but what do you mean by gift?”

His aunt frowned at him. “Were you not paying attention earlier?” she demanded.

“I- I was, but I couldn’t hear, the other boys were whispering too much,” Vanyel lied, unwilling to mention that he’d slipped in late. She didn’t seem like the sort of woman who would appreciate tardiness.

“Gifts are powers that Heralds wield, such as mindspeech, firestarting, fetching,” she explained shortly.

“Fetching?” Vanyel asked. It didn’t sound terribly heroic.

“The ability to move things through the air with your mind,” she clarified.

Vanyel’s eyes grew wide. “There’s someone you need to see!” He said loudly and grabbed onto her arm insistently, like he was worried she’d disappear.

She frowned. “I thought I asked for everyone underage to be gathered. Why weren’t they here?”

Vanyel bit his lip and then blurted, “Father Leren thinks he has a demon in him! Or maybe that he is a demon! He sent a letter to an exorcist to kill him! Only I know it isn’t a demon! Tylendel never meant to hurt anyone, honest! He hates when the fits happen, things fly around and break apart, but the only time people have gotten hurt were accidents, I swear!”

Savil stared at him in shocked silence at the onslaught and then said carefully, “Vanyel, I need you to show me this boy.”

~

Vanyel dragged her down to Tylendel’s cell, terrified that somehow he’d missed the arrival of the exorcist and it was too late.

Tylendel was seated in his cell, looking despondent.

“This is him!” Vanyel said needlessly. “Please help him! I know he isn’t a demon.”

“He is no demon, child,” Savil said assuredly. “I’ll have to have a word with that damn priest. Locking up children like this. He’d damn well know if he had a demon on his hands.”

She pushed on the cell door, but to Vanyel’s despair, it had been locked again, likely by whoever had brought Tylendel his morning meal.

Savil frowned at the cell door and then said to Vanyel and Tylendel, “Step back, I’m going to open this lock.”

Both boys shrank back and watched in amazement as the metal groaned and twisted and finally snapped, like had been ripped apart by invisible hands. The cell door swung open, broken beyond repair.

Before Savil could enter the cell, Vanyel shot past her and all but tackled Tylendel.

“You’re not a demon!” He exclaimed, eyes bright with happiness. “Aunt Savil believes me! The exorcist won’t have to kill you!”

Tylendel blinked and then gently pushed Vanyel off his lap and stood and extended his hand to Savil.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, voice soft. “I’m Tylendel Frelennye.”

“Savil Ashkevron,” she returned and placed her hand on his head. “This will only take a moment, but I think I know what to expect.”

Less than minute passed before she removed her hand and opened her eyes.

“You have several very strong Gifts,” she said. “You will make for a very talented Herald Mage, if given the proper training. How long have these... fits been happening?”

“A few months,” Tylendel said, sounding tired. He ran a hand through his greasy hair. “At first they happened once every few weeks, then more often. Then I had one at dinner and the priest here said it was caused by a demon and I was locked up.”

Savil’s mouth tightened. “Yes, I certainly will be having a word with that damn priest. And Withen,” she said. Somehow, Vanyel found it exceptionally frightening.

“It’s your choice, Tylendel, but if you come with me to Haven, I’ll take you on as a Herald Mage trainee. You won’t have those fits anymore if I have anything to do with it.”

“I won’t?” He asked, sounding almost helplessly young and afraid. Vanyel grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Tylendel squeezed back.

“No,” Savil said gently. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

~

The next morning, Savil announced she was leaving, and taking Tylendel with her.

Both Father Leren and his father looked like they’d eaten sour lemons and didn’t argue with her.

Vanyel felt torn- Tylendel was safe now, but it seemed like he’d never see his best friend ever again.

He stood on the steps outside the keep while Savil saddled her white horse and Tylendel’s bay mare stomped her feet impatiently. Staven was there too, and Vanyel had to look away while they had their silent goodbyes. At the end, Staven went back inside, face tilted down, but Vanyel knew he’d started to cry silently.

Vanyel was silent all the way up to the moment Tylendel was about to mount up, then burst into noisy, messy tears.

“I don’t want you to go!” He wailed loudly and tried to scrub the tears from his eyes, but they wouldn’t stop and streamed down his face and chin.

Tylendel abandoned his horse and raced over and yanked Vanyel into a hug.

“This isn’t forever!” He promised, patting Vanyel on the back gently. “I’ll write you all the time! And Savil is your aunt, so we’ll have to come back eventually, right?”

Vanyel sniffled loudly. “Promise?” he asked.

“I swear on my honor,” Tylendel said seriously, staring at him fiercely. “You’ll get sick of me, from how often I’ll write!”

“Hurry up, trainee!” Savil called from across the courtyard.

“Travel safely,” Vanyel said, slowly letting go of Tylendel’s long sleeves. “Oh wait!” he added, and pulled out a coin purse. It was all the leftover money he hadn’t given to Radevel. “Take this!”

Tylendel stared down at the purse in confusion. “Where did you get all this, Vanyel?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Vanyel said dismissively. “Take it. Aunt Savil said that Heralds give up their right to any inheritances, right? So you only get money from the crown. Take that, just in case. I won’t need it.”

“Tylendel!” Savil called impatiently.

“We are going to talk about this money later,” Tylendel said, mock-sternly, but his eyes were lit up with humor as he tucked the purse into his pocket.

Vanyel stayed on the steps of Forst Reach, watching until Savil and Tylendel disappeared into the distance.

Somehow, it felt like more than just his closest friend had gone.

It felt like he’d lost his heart.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Vanyel stayed outside long after Tylendel and Savil were out of sight, but eventually, with a heavy heart, he had to return indoors.

“What did you give Tylendel?” Staven asked once Vanyel re-entered the keep. Vanyel jumped, having assumed Staven had left after he’d gone inside. Staven was right inside the doors, looking pale. His eyes were puffy, like he’d been crying recently, though his cheeks were dry.

“Some money,” Vanyel said, a little wary. It had been weeks since Staven had even been willing to even look at him, much less talk directly to him, and their last conversation had been very unpleasant.

Staven raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a small bag, where’d you get it all?”

He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious, so Vanyel bit his lip and then replied honestly, “I stole it.” He paused and then admitted, a little shyly, “I was planning on breaking Tylendel out of his cell and giving you and him the money to use to get home.” Visions of Staven reporting his misdeeds to Father or, worse, _Jervis_ , danced in his head, so he added in a rush, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Staven looked surprised, and then faintly embarrassed as he said, “I won’t, I swear! Thank you.” He was silent for a long, awkward moment, his gaze flickering down to Vanyel’s face and then back to the floor, and then he said, more quietly, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you before. I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you about Tylendel’s fits,” Vanyel replied, still feeling overrun with guilt. He didn’t think any amount of time would ever fully relieve him of the guilt felt for his role in Tylendel’s imprisonment.

Staven sighed and finally met Vanyel’s gaze. His eyes were red, and it was clear that he’d been crying as hard as Vanyel had been when Tylendel had left. “I still shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he said, his voice going hoarse, “Or said any of those awful things. I knew better, but I was upset and hurt and I wanted to hurt you like I was hurting.”

“But I was wrong!” Vanyel burst out, shame burning so hot through his veins that it felt like coals were smoldering under his skin. “I shouldn’t have listened to Tylendel! I knew he was in danger and I didn’t do anything anyways.”

“You might have made a mistake, but that doesn’t make what I said or did okay,” Staven said firmly. He stood up straighter, like his own conviction was taking the weight of Tylendel’s near execution from his shoulders.

“But-” Vanyel started to protest.

“No,” Staven interrupted and grabbed Vanyel gently by the shoulders, staring into his eyes intently. “You are also my brother, Vanyel. You helped my twin when I couldn’t, that makes you family. I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

Vanyel had to bite his lip _hard_ , uncertain if he was trying to stop himself from bursting into tears again or simply from saying something stupid. Because he had his real flesh and blood brothers and his cousins who might as well have been his siblings, and none of them wanted anything to do with him. They would have been happy if there had been a way to snap Vanyel’s branch off from the family tree, they were _ashamed_ of him. And yet, there was Staven was staring down at him, brown eyes intense and filled with conviction, calling him brother.

Finally, after spending a long moment desperately trying to compose himself, Vanyel managed to croak out, “T-thank you.”

Staven nodded, like Vanyel had said something important and more than a simple gratitude, and let go of him, stepping back.

They went together deeper into the keep, and Vanyel still felt the loss of Tylendel down to the quick, a lonely ache he knew wouldn’t fade any time soon, but there was a warmth within him he’d never felt before: a sense of belonging.

~

In the months following Tylendel’s departure, Vanyel never fully recovered from the loss. He was grateful that his aunt had rescued Tylendel, and that his fits and the uncertain terror that came with them would end. But he couldn’t help the selfish, jealous corner of his mind that wished that either he could also escape Forst Reach or that Tylendel hadn’t needed to leave. He did his best to ignore that part of his mind, and when he failed at doing that, he ruthlessly reminded himself of all that Tylendel had suffered to gain that freedom.

It was all even harder once Staven also left.

Not long after Tylendel left for Haven with Savil, Staven was called back to his home. His uncle had decided that it would be safer to have Staven return to their home and be at risk for being poisoned, than to remain in Forst Reach where he was theoretically at risk for being killed for being related to Tylendel. Even a month after it had become common knowledge that Tylendel had become a Herald-Mage trainee, and hadn’t been possessed or anything of the kind, plenty of the keep’s occupants whispered about ‘that demon-child Tylendel’, and shot Staven side-eyed looks, as if it were only a matter of time before he began to follow Tylendel’s path.

Vanyel couldn’t blame Staven’s uncle. Given the choice, Vanyel thought he’d pick potentially being poisoned over being trapped in Forst Reach. Staven was devastated and told Vanyel he didn’t want to leave, Father Leren and the other adults be damned, but Vanyel couldn’t help but notice the small look of relief on Staven’s face the day he was to return to Rosewood with one of his uncle’s armsmen. Vanyel had to nearly bite through his lip to keep from crying and making a scene, and making Staven feel all the guiltier about leaving Vanyel behind.

Months slipped by. Tylendel kept his promise and wrote on a near daily basis, though the letters slowed down once his training began in earnest. Vanyel didn’t begrudge how busy he had to be, but still missed him fiercely and felt a thrill run through him every time he was passed a letter over breakfast.

He also exchanged letters with Staven, though not nearly as frequently. Things had improved between him and Staven before he left Forst Reach and they’d become all but inseparable once the adults started whispering about Staven being demon-blooded like his twin, but the shadow of Tylendel’s imprisonment never had a chance to fully fade before Staven was called home. It probably hadn’t helped that Tylendel hadn’t been there to act buffer between them, with Staven leaning towards too brash and outspoken and Vanyel growing more cautious and withdrawn with every jeer and prank played on him by the other boys at Forst Reach.

Three years passed slowly, and Vanyel would have given both of his arms and _his lute_ to have a friend at Forst Reach again.

~

It happened at breakfast when letters were being passed out to various family members by a servant. Vanyel looked up hopefully, though he wasn’t really expecting anything. Lissa had just sent him a letter a few days previous, and wouldn’t have gotten his reply yet. He knew that Tylendel was far away from Haven with Savil, doing some sort of training. Staven was also busy helping his uncle prepare for the midsummer festival and probably wouldn’t have had time to write a letter so soon after the last one he’d sent a week previous. That didn’t stop Vanyel from looking up hopefully when the servant passed by him. His letters sometimes seemed to be the only bright spots in his life in the keep without Staven and Tylendel or Lissa, who’d left so long ago that he scarcely could remember her face, apart from the Ashkevron nose- a feature far too prominent to ever forget.

As he’d expected, there were no letters for him, so he turned back to his breakfast, only faintly disheartened.

“Vanyel, come see me after the meal,” Withen called out across the hall.

Immediately all of the younglings at the lower tables started whispering furiously, shooting Vanyel unsubtle glances. It was no secret that Vanyel was rarely, if ever, in Withen’s favour. Vanyel, along with every other soul in the hall, was expecting to get a lecture on whatever he’d inevitably done wrong in his father’s eyes.

Despite his best efforts to dawdle, the meal eventually came to a close and Vanyel was forced to rise from the bench and follow his father to his study, dozens of eyes trailing after him. He bit his lip and tried to act like it didn’t bother him.

He didn’t care. His father was never pleased with him. This wasn’t surprising, and he didn’t need his approval. He was above all of it. Except for the part where every disappointed, exasperated look dug in under his skin like a splinter left to fester.

Once they were both shut into the study, Withen was silent for a long moment, staring intently at Vanyel without a word, which confused him. Lectures on not skipping arms practice or on not liking nice clothing or, worst, the _Son You Will Be A Man Soon_ lecture usually all started up before Vanyel could even close the study door behind him. It gave everyone unsubtly eavesdropping outside the door enough of a hint of what Vanyel had done wrong to provide the other boys with plenty of fodder to use against him the next time Vanyel couldn’t duck out of arms practice.

Finally, Withen said, “I received an invitation to Rosewood for the midsummer festival.”

Vanyel tried not to let excitement or surprise show on his face, though it was exceptionally difficult- Rosewood was the Frelennye territory.

“You’re still friends with the Frelennye boy?” Withen asked, still not giving away a thing. Vanyel couldn’t tell if he was happy about the invitation or angry or was going to reject it or anything. It was more than a little unnerving.

Hesitantly, he nodded.

“He has invited your mother and I to his estate for the midsummer festival, and he has asked you to come along,” Withen said, eyeing him closely. There was an unreadable look on his face, and there was something in his voice that made Vanyel feel like he was being tested- though he had no idea on what. It only made him even more nervous,

Vanyel did his best to bite back the flash of excitement that ran through him at the thought of getting to visit Staven. Knowing his father, if Vanyel was too enthusiastic, he’d find a reason to leave Vanyel behind in Forst Reach.

“Of course, you’ll need to be on your best behavior,” Withen continued. His face twisted into something that was only a hair away from a glower, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t want to be embarrassed by any... inappropriate behavior with the Freleyenne boy.”

Vanyel bit his lip, hiding a frown. Inappropriate? Staven _had_ convinced Tylendel and Vanyel into more than a few pranks and other things that they weren’t supposed to be doing, but it had never been any more serious than the things the other boys at the keep got up to. To be honest, he’d almost thought his father had been happy to see him doing things like the other boys, even if he’d been punished accordingly.

Without any idea of what his father was referring to, Vanyel simply said, “Of course, father.”

As he left his father’s study, he could feel his eyes lay heavy on his back and fought back a shiver.

~

Traveling with his father and two arms men was excruciatingly annoying. Vanyel quickly discovered that it was best to just keep his mouth shut and do as he was told, rather than have to endure unending lectures and disapproving looks. By the end of the week Vanyel was ready to strangle his father and happily get sent to the gallows for it, just for the chance to be out from under his father’s thumb. Luckily, they arrived at Rosewood before Vanyel had to resort to such tactics.

Erin Freleyenne, the twins’ uncle, met Withen and Vanyel the moment they arrived, with Staven a half step behind at his shoulder. There was much boring back and forth prattle to be endured, and even more of Withen being a bit of an ass, making Vanyel bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything he’d regret later. If Staven’s uncle took offence, he was an above average actor and remained coolly polite despite Withen’s bluster.

Staven looked markedly different after the better part of three years away from Forst Reach. He’d grown even taller- enough that he towered over Vanyel, and would likely continue to do so even once Vanyel grew into adulthood. Even stranger was how much sterner his face had become. His serious expression threw Vanyel for a loop, making him worried that Staven no longer cared about him and wasn’t as excited as Vanyel was to see him. Maybe inviting Vanyel hadn’t been his idea. Maybe he didn’t even care that he was there. Maybe he didn’t think of Vanyel like his other brother anymore after so much time and distance.

Then Staven met Vanyel’s gaze over both of their guardians’ shoulders and rolled his eyes and winked, before quickly resuming his serious expression.

Withen and Erin Freleyenne spoke for a little longer, but finally, they were allowed to enter the keep, servants appearing to take away the horses and to bring their bags inside.

“Uncle, why don’t I show Vanyel where his room is?” Staven offered, looking the very image of a helpful host. The only thing that gave him away was the way he was all but bouncing on his toes in his excitement to get out from under his uncle’s watchful gaze.

From the expression on his uncle’s face, he didn’t believe Staven for an instant, but he still said, “That would be excellent. Go ahead, Staven.”

“This way,” Staven said, gesturing down a hallway leading away from the adults, an overly polite smile on his face.

The instant they were out of sight and earshot, Staven burst into laughter.

“You should have seen your face!” He snickered, lightly elbowing Vanyel.

“What was that all about?” Vanyel asked, unable to help but smile back as relief poured through him. Staven was still Staven, not some stern-faced stranger, even after three years apart.

“Uncle lectured me about being polite and not embarrassing myself in front of guests every day since we sent that invitation! It was like he thought I’d accidentally call your father an ass right to his face the second I laid eyes on him, or something,” Staven replied, rolling his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you call my father an ass to his face?” Vanyel asked wryly. Staven had never been known to keep his options to himself, which was both a blessing and a curse as someone who was his friend.

“Yes, I would” Staven agreed easily, and added with an impish grin, “But it wouldn’t be an accident.” Staven ducked through a doorway onto a small balcony, Vanyel trailing after him.

“This had better not be my room,” Vanyel joked. It was a lovely, warm day and the breeze blew up the smell of lavender and jasmine up from the garden below, but he hardly wanted to spend another night outside if he could help it.

“Nah, it’s on the other side of the keep, actually. I just wanted to get away from Uncle as quickly as possible, I couldn’t keep that expression up for much longer,” Staven replied with a grin.

“Have you heard from Tylendel recently?” Vanyel asked. It had been several weeks since he’d gotten a letter from Tylendel, which was to be expected, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. Even though Tylendel always glossed over what training to be a Herald Mage was like, it still sounded awfully dangerous to Vanyel.

Staven shook his head. “Not since before I sent the invitation. That was Tylendel’s idea, he said it sounded like you were about to go mad being trapped in Forst Reach,” he explained.

“I am,” Vanyel said and made a face. “It’s completely awful. Father’s been making me get more involved with running the keep and it seems like everything I do is wrong. I could probably say ‘the sky is blue and the grass is green’ and I’d be wrong somehow. Mekeal should be the heir, not me. _He’s_ actually good at it, and he’s only _nine_. Father is about to drive me insane.”

“I wanted to only invite you, so you could get away from him, but uncle said that it wouldn’t be proper and would probably look like an insult,” Staven said making a face and he shrugged like he didn’t see the real problem with that. “But there’s loads to do with the festival, so hopefully we can stay away from Withen as much as possible.”

“That would be great,” Vanyel said with a sigh. He might only have two weeks at Rosewood, but he was going to enjoy every second he had away from his father and bask in the presence of one of his few and beloved friends.

~

The next few days were heavenly. Vanyel would wake up in a room devoid of obnoxious siblings or cousins or fosterlings, then he’d have breakfast with Staven, often without his father, after which he and Staven would have the entire day to themselves until dinner.

The midsummer festival was a bigger event at Rosewood than it was at Forst Reach, possibly due to the larger village nearby and the Leshara lands being only about a day’s ride away, but it was more likely due to the Freleyenne’s main trade being wine, with a lot of it being ready for sampling by summertime. It was like Yuletide at Forst Reach, where all non-essential work was delayed until after the festival, and everyone was in indulgent cheery moods.

In the mornings, Vanyel and Staven spent hours running through the village, which had swelled to bursting with travelling merchants, minstrels and all sorts of other people, making the village chaotic in the best kind of way.

By midday, with the air shimmering with heat and humidity, they would buy something to eat in the market and then escape down to the shady banks of a nearby river. The air was always cool and damp there, and they’d spend hours wading in the clear water, talking and exploring the surrounding forest.

Once the sun dipped low in the sky, they would reluctantly return to the keep and to appearances of being responsible heirs to their respective estates. Each night the evening meal would drag on and on until the moon was high in the sky, with the season’s best wines being served with each course. It was generally excruciatingly boring for Vanyel, since he was only given watered down wine as he was only just turned thirteen, and his father kept such a close eye on him the whole time, so he couldn’t even look at Staven, much less have a conversation with him.

Ever since they’d arrived, his father had been watching him carefully, like he was expecting Vanyel to do... something. Vanyel had no idea what his father was waiting for him to do, but it made him nervous and want to spend even less time around his father.

On his fourth day at Rosewood, while they were down at the river dangling their feet in the water, Staven turned to him and said with a brilliant smile, “Tylendel says hello.”

“What?” Vanyel asked, heart beginning to race. Lately when he’d thought about Tylendel, his stomach would start to flutter and his face would flush and it was so strange and weirdly nice and he didn’t really understand _why_.

“Tylendel says hello,” Staven repeated with a grin and tapped a finger to his temple. “I’ve been trying to tell him you’re here since you arrived, but he’s so busy I haven’t been able to catch him, he was always either sleeping or concentrating on something important that needed all of his attention.”

“You can talk to him all the way from here?” Vanyel asked, stunned. He’d only ever seen Staven and Tylendel use their trick while they were both at Forst Reach. If Tylendel was in Haven, it was days away by horse, and it was pretty likely that he was even farther away, doing training with Savil and her other trainees. It seemed so impossible that Tylendel could be doing something as silly as saying hello to Vanyel from that far away.

“Yup,” Staven confirmed. “Distance never seems to affect it, but using specific words has always been harder than general impressions. We still send each other letters, though, since people would wonder about why we were ignoring each other.”

“Can you tell him I say hi back?” Vanyel asked a bit shyly, feeling a little silly.

“I’m not a messenger pigeon,” Staven complained, but he was grinning, so Vanyel figured he was only joking.

: _Is he okay? Is his father being too obnoxious?:_ Tylendel asked Staven, his ‘voice’ coloured through with worry.

Staven rolled his eyes. He’d already told Tylendel that Vanyel was fine, but his twin seemed convinced that their friend was going to come to harm somehow. Staven was mostly sure it was him being over-protective and not a Herald thing. Or maybe just a Tylendel thing. He _always_ worried too much.

_:I told you already, he’s fine. And of course his father is being obnoxious, I don’t know how he’d keep on living if he didn’t spend most of his time being obnoxious_ ,: Staven replied. _:If he were pleasant, the world might end.:_

_:What has he done?:_ Tylendel asked, sounding suspicious. Staven nearly laughed: what did his brother think he was going to be able to do, days away by horse, and underage to boot?

_:Oh nothing too terrible, yet. He’s mostly just stared at me like I’ve violated his son or something. It makes me want to do something outrageous just to prove a point._ :

: _Don’t you dare do anything that will get Vanyel in trouble! He’s the one who’ll have to deal with Withen once they leave!:_ Tylendel said sternly, nearly inundating Staven’s mind with disapproval and worry, all heavy and crackling like a thundercloud.

_:Like I’d actually do anything, uncle lectured me about being proper for_ weeks _before Vanyel even got here!:_ Staven protested. _:Not to mention I hardly want to get Vanyel in trouble. He’s my friend too, you know_. _Though his father really does go out of his way to make it tempting._ :

_:Good to see that those lectures on being proper had no effect on you, then,:_ Tylendel said, his words coloured by his usual affection.

Before Staven could reply, he got a wave of surprise from Tylendel, followed by what felt like a sigh- Tylendel must have been caught lazing about instead of studying or whatever he was meant to be doing.

“Everything okay?” Vanyel asked, noticing the face Staven made.

“All good, Tylendel was just being a mother hen about you, and then got caught slacking,” Staven explained.

Not long after that, they had to return inside for dinner, but even as they left the warm afternoon sunlight, Vanyel felt like he was filled with warmth after talking to Tylendel, albeit indirectly.

~

It was nearing the end of Vanyel’s time at Rosewood when Staven mentioned his family’s ongoing feud with the Leshara. Vanyel had been dying of curiosity the entire visit, but had been reluctant to bring it up, given it had been the cause of Staven and Tylendel’s father’s death.

“It’s not as dangerous as it was a few years ago, back when my father died,” Staven explained, kicking his feet back and forth in the river, like they were talking about the weather and not the bloody feud that had resulted in the deaths of both of his parents. But Vanyel only had to look at Staven’s pained expression to see how much it hurt to talk about the feud. “No one has been killed since my father died, and any attempts stopped before Uncle let me come home.”

“But the feud isn’t over?” Vanyel asked, even as relief rushing through him at the thought that his friend was in less danger than Vanyel had thought. He’d just assumed that Staven had been glossing things over in his letters, not wanting to make Vanyel worry.

“No,” Staven said, firmly shaking his head. “Some of it is mostly just to scare us- like last month when a Leshara set fire to one of our fields because one of ours stole one of their horses. Then there’s the more... unpleasant stuff, like dead animals being left in front of the keep. A bunch of our hens were killed a few weeks ago, but it might have just been a fox that did that.” A humorless smile passed over his face as he said, “Pretty much anything that goes wrong in Rosewood is the Leshara’s fault- milk goes sour? Leshara cursed us. Laundry gets ruined? A Leshara snuck in and did that. It’s actually pretty funny until you find a dead cat left right in front of your house.”

“That’s terrible!” Vanyel burst out, startling Staven so much he nearly toppled off the bank into the river. “I’d be so afraid if I never knew when something like that might happen, always worrying about what might happen next.” It was like living with his cousins and fosterlings who loved to pull pranks on Vanyel whenever he least expected it, except worse since all Vanyel had to deal with was ink and frogs and fish heads and not anything actually scary or life-threatening.

Staven nodded, his eyes distant even as he stared at the swiftly flowing water beneath their feet. “When I’m the Lord Holder, I am going to force everyone to end this feud,” he said firmly. It should have been laughable, a boy still in his adolescence promising to stop something adults for decades had failed to do. But there was something in Staven’s voice, a confidence and a solid resolution that hit Vanyel square in the heart. He was convinced that if that was what Staven wanted, it was something he could accomplish.

Then the moment was over, Staven shooting Vanyel a sidelong smirk before kicking a wave of water onto him. “And that’s for nearly knocking me into the river!” He said with a grin.

Vanyel shrieked at the cold water and then the rest of the afternoon dissolved into cold, slimy, good-natured fun, and all thoughts of the blood feud flew from Vanyel’s mind.

~

Even much later in his adulthood, Vanyel wouldn’t ever be able to recall how the subject of kissing came up, only that it did after dinner on Vanyel’s second-to-last night at Rosewood.

“What, you still haven’t kissed anyone?” Staven asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his wild dark hair.

“I’m only thirteen!” Vanyel protested, cheeks going bright red. Plenty of the boys Vanyel’s age or older at Forst Reach had kissed girls, or had done more, but Vanyel had yet to see the appeal. He assumed it might change as he got older, but a part of him dreaded that day. It seemed like once it had happened, the boys lost the ability to talk about anything but girls and their bodies and touching them. But to Vanyel it just seemed like a hassle and unsanitary to boot. What could possibly be appealing about it?

“The sooner you get it over with the better,” Staven advised. “Everyone builds up their first kiss as this huge thing and waits for the perfect moment with the perfect person, but that just means they’re disappointed when it isn’t as amazing as they were expecting. Better to get a lot of practice in before you _really_ need it, when you find someone you actually love.”

“You’d know all about that, I bet,” Vanyel said wryly. Staven was without a stitch of shame and just grinned widely in response. “But who would even want to kiss me,” Vanyel continued with a dismal sigh. “All the girls at the keep think I’m a whiney mother’s pet.”

“Bet when you’re older they’ll be throwing themselves at you,” Staven said, still grinning. “They won’t be able to keep their hands off of you once you’ve gotten a little taller.”

Vanyel wrinkled his nose, because frankly? That sounded hellish.

“It’s the truth,” Staven said, misunderstanding Vanyel’s expression. “Same thing happened with me- when we were babies everyone fawned over Tylendel, said he was the prettier one out of us, and they all ignored me.”

“And it had nothing to do with you biting everyone all the time,” Vanyel said slyly, remembering one of Tylendel’s favourite stories to tell about growing up with Staven at Rosewood.

“Course not,” Staven agreed, punching Vanyel playfully on the arm. “But now that we’re older, _I’m_ the one with all the attention and Tylendel’s the one with the funny ears and knobbly knees who no one gives the time of day to.”

At this, Vanyel had to wonder what Tylendel looked like, being three years older since he’d last seen him. Was he like Staven and had shot up several feet? Had his shoulders gotten broader? All the training he was doing had to have an effect on him, maybe he was more muscular than the twelve-year-old boy Vanyel remembered playing with. Something about these thoughts made him feel all shivery and strange, so he did his best to push them away.

“I have an idea,” Staven said brightly, words which rarely boded well for Vanyel, and usually resulted in some form of mayhem or another followed by both of them being lectured by Withen. “Let me kiss you. That way you get your first kiss over and done with, _and_ you’ll be less worried once you find a girl you want to kiss.”

Vanyel boggled at him. “But we’re both boys!” he protested.

“So?” Staven asked with a shrug. “It’s not like it would be serious or anything. Some boys kiss other boys, it’s no big deal. Why not?”

Vanyel frowned, trying think of why this wasn’t right. He couldn’t think of anything, other than the fact that no one had ever mentioned boys kissing other boys instead of kissing girls. But, like Staven had said, it wasn’t like either of them would mean anything by it, it was just to get Vanyel’s first kiss out of the way. It couldn’t be that bad an idea, could it?

“How do you know boys actually kiss other boys sometimes?” Vanyel asked suspiciously, since a small part of him thought Staven might have been playing some sort of mean-spirited prank on him. Staven normally wouldn’t be that mean, but he sometimes took things too far, and Vanyel almost couldn’t believe that no one had even ever breathed a word about boys not only kissing girls. It seemed like the sort of thing Radevel would have been teasing him endlessly about, in addition to calling him a girl.

“Marren, one of the stable boys, goes around kissing pretty much anyone who’ll stay still long enough,” Staven explained. “He tried to lay one on me last Yuletide, but he was too drunk and tripped over his own feet and had to be carried to his room by one of the armsmen,” Staven explained, then eyed Vanyel closely, a gentle look passing over his face. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. Wait for some girl you don’t care much about to get it over with instead.”

Vanyel stubbornly shook his head, because getting this over and done with sounded so very appealing, and he asked, “Have _you_ ever kissed another boy?”

Staven shook his head. “Nah, I’ve never seen one I wanted to kiss. Guess that means it’s almost like my first one too,” he added with an eyebrow wriggle that Vanyel _knew_ was aimed at making him laugh.

Somehow, though, it was hearing that Staven hadn’t done this before either made Vanyel relax a bit, some of the tension bleeding from his tense shoulders.

“Okay,” he said, turning to face Staven a little better.

Staven grinned widely again and placed one hand on Vanyel’s shoulder. He leaned in and gently brushed his lips over Vanyel’s.

It only lasted a handful of seconds and then Vanyel pulled away, blushing furiously and made a face. That was... weird. Deeply and exceptionally weird. Kind of nice, but mostly weird.

“Well,” Staven said, making a similar face.

“Well,” Vanyel agreed, still wrinkling his nose, and then he suggested, “Let’s never do that again.”

Staven nodded vigorously. “I swear, it’s better with other people,” he said, almost earnestly.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you,” Vanyel said with a small, sly smirk. Staven was not one to hold back information about his many partners, even when he had an unwilling audience, and as a result Vanyel knew far more than he really wanted about the girls Staven had kissed and done more with.

It was in that moment that Vanyel’s father chose to burst in the room.

He stared at Vanyel and Staven, his eyes going slightly bug-eyed and Vanyel abruptly realized the position they were in- Vanyel leaning in towards Staven, Staven’s hand on Vanyel’s shoulder, their knees nearly touching. Then Vanyel realized there was blood on his father’s hands.

He jerked away from Staven and leapt to his feet. “Father, what’s wrong?” He asked, heart pounding.

Withen’s face did something strange- he suddenly became calm, his expression smoothing out into blankness.

“Vanyel. Pack your things, we’re leaving,” he said without inflection.

“What? But the festival doesn’t end until the day after tomorrow-” Vanyel started to protest unwilling to lose even a single candlemark he had left at Rosewood.

“We’re not spending another night with this _degenerate_ family,” Withen spat, shooting a disgusted look at Staven.

Staven stood, assuming the polite host’s expression he’d used whenever he and Vanyel weren’t alone. “Sir, what’s happened? I hate to think anything’s happened to-”

Withen glowered at him, his voice dripping with contempt as he said, “That’s enough out of you, you two-faced little snake. Your uncle has just killed an innocent woman and I want nothing to do with this nonsense.”

Vanyel reeled back, mouth agape. He’d only spoken to Erin Frelennye directly a few times while in Rosewood, but the man had seemed decent enough. What in the lady’s name had happened?

With that said, Withen grabbed Vanyel by the upper arm and hauled him from the room, not even noticing when Vanyel tried to break free, or his demands for an explanation.

Staven, however, was not to be ignored. He darted ahead of Withen and firmly planted his feet.

“No. Tell me what happened,” he demanded. His voice was startlingly deep for his age, and the scowl on his face said he was not to be trifled with.

“Move aside, boy,” Withen snapped, his face starting to go red with anger.

“Just tell me, did you see my uncle kill this woman with your own eyes? Or did you only come in afterwards?” Staven demanded, refusing to budge an inch.

“Well- yes-” Withen had to admit.

“Look, my uncle isn’t the sort of man to just go and kill anyone without cause, and I’m not certain I believe you when you say that it was my uncle who killed this woman- did you witness it with your own eyes? Because otherwise there might be some murderer running about my home unnoticed killing people and trying to blame my uncle.”

Withen looked ready to explode, his face going alarmingly red, but before he could get another word out, an armsman skidded around the corner, out of breath and with a frantic look on his face.

“Lord Staven!” He exclaimed, sagging with relief when he spotted Staven. “You must come to your uncle at once!”

“Is he hurt?” Staven demanded, even as he started to follow the armsman down the hall at a rapid pace. Vanyel followed after him, ignoring his father’s attempts to stop him.

“He’s uninjured, but there was an attempt on his life by a Leshara!” The armsman said, spitting out Leshara like it was a curse word.

“Vanyel-” Withen started to growl, attempting to grab Vanyel by the arm again. Vanyel ducked under his hand and followed Staven and the armsman into the main hall.

Staven entered the main hall at a run, slamming the set of double doors open with a loud bang as they crashed into the stone walls behind them. Vanyel was hard on his heels and nearly ran into Staven’s back when he abruptly ground to a halt just inside the doors.

Standing in front of the head table was Erin Frelennye, blood splattered on his face and hands. He held a knife in one hand and a woman lay on the floor at his feet, blood spread out on the floor under her. Even from the other end of the room, Vanyel could tell she wasn’t breathing.

“Uncle!” Staven yelled and ran across the room, Vanyel right behind him, and the armsmen and Withen chasing after them, Withen cursing under his breath.

“I’m fine, Staven,” Erin Freleyenne said, his voice eerily calm. His face looked like it had been carved from stone, his expression grim. The knife in his hand was meant for slicing bread and was slowly dripping blood.

“What happened? Did this woman attack you? Who is she?” Staven asked, shooting a dirty look at Withen as he said so.

“This is Analisbeth Leshara’s mother,” Erin said, his voice heavy. This seemed to mean something to Staven, who exhaled slowly, his expression growing pained, his eyes darting back down to the prone body on the floor.

“What in god’s name is going on here?” Withen thundered, his expression dark and promising he’d shout the ceiling down if things weren’t explained to him immediately if not sooner.

“Analisbeth is the great-grand niece of the Leshara lord, the neighbouring holding, about a day’s ride from here,” Erin explained wearily. “She was due to give birth soon but decided to visit her family before the festival. Her mother’s family is one of my tenant farmers, and so when Analisbeth went into labour, it was one of my healers who was called to help her. Neither the mother nor the baby survived the birth.”

“And the healer was blamed?” Staven asked, a sharp look of understanding on his face.

But his uncle shook his head. “Not precisely. The Leshara claim that I instructed the healer to allow them both to die, as revenge for the death of my second cousin Lyra.”

“Like you’d have known this woman would go into labour on our land! Much less tell a healer to kill a baby!” Staven snapped, bristling with anger. “Besides, Lyra’s death was an accident. She should have known better than to go so close to the Black River when it’s so high from snowmelt.”

Erin was silent, his expression grim.

“She... it was an accident, right?” Staven said, horror starting to creep into his voice. Vanyel stepped a little closer to him, and would have grabbed his hand if his father wasn’t glowering at his back.

“There’s no way of knowing otherwise,” Erin said after another long pause. “Regardless, I did _not_ have anything to with the woman’s death. Analisbeth’s mother disagreed and attacked me and in the struggle, she was grievously injured. It was an accident.”

Withen’s expression didn’t change, likely not believing Erin’s recounting of the events.

“Vanyel, pack your things. We are leaving before we get tangled up in this nonsense,” Withen snapped, already turning to leave the hall.

“But-” Vanyel started to protest.

Withen whirled back around, his expression dark and promising unhappy consequences if Vanyel continued to argue. Vanyel shut his mouth with an audible click.

“It’s nearly sundown,” Staven said, tearing his eyes away from the dead woman on the floor. “You should at least spend the night, you’ll get no more than a candlemark’s ride in before you’d have to stop for the night.”

Staven’s voice was calm and persuasive, but Vanyel noticed how his hands were trembling faintly, giving away the fact that he was a great deal more effected by the evening’s events than he was letting on.

Withen glowered at Staven, and then at his uncle, who was paying them no attention and was speaking urgently with one of his armsmen. “We leave at first light,” he snapped at Vanyel and then stomped out of the hall.

Vanyel only sagged with relief once he was out of eyesight.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Staven, who had also slumped once Withen had left, his false bravado run dry.

“I didn’t want you to leave Rosewood like this,” Staven said in a low voice, his eyes darting towards his uncle. “It’s probably foolish, but I just don’t want to be alone after…. After all this,” he admitted. He looked faintly embarrassed and it made Vanyel grab his hands and squeeze them reassuringly.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Vanyel said firmly. “Lord and Lady, I don’t want to let you out of my sight after this has happened!”

Staven shot him a small, grateful smile, and said, “Thank you, Vanyel.”

“The last thing I want to do is be stuck in a field with my father, anyways,” Vanyel added, mostly just to make Staven laugh, and hopefully drive some of that blank fear from his eyes.

The two of them left the hall and, without even discussing it, both headed up to Staven’s room. Vanyel would have to head to his own room to sleep, since his father had been weirdly diligent about making sure he was in his room at night, but at the very least they could spend the last few hours together before Vanyel had to leave.

They settled on the well-worn chairs next to the fireplace, and sat in silence, watching the flames dance for a long while, both still reeling at what had happened.

Eventually, Staven seemed to come back to himself and said, “Van, could you avoid mentioning this to Tylendel?”

Vanyel turned towards Staven and pursed his lips. “The last time I helped one of you keep a secret from the other, it didn’t turn out well,” he pointed out, though he could certainly see where Staven was coming from. Tylendel was already rubbed raw by the petty mishaps caused by the feud and his distance from Staven, hearing about a death in his own home and an attack on his uncle and being unable to do anything about it would only further incense him.

“This is different,” Staven insisted, even if his expression said he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own opinion.

“I don’t know…” Vanyel said hesitantly. Staven shot him an imploring look and Vanyel sighed and added, “I won’t tell him, but if he asks me, I won’t lie to him. _And_ you have to tell him yourself.”

Staven hesitated, then sighed in defeat and nodded. “Alright, fine. You win. I’ll tell him. Now, do you want me to beat you one more time in Hinds and Hounds before you leave?”

“No, but I’ll be happy to beat you like I have every other time we’ve played,” Vanyel said sweetly, and began to set up the pieces.

~

_Heyla Vanyel!_

  
_I learned something interesting from Savil today! She’s been teaching me Tayledras the last few months, since she wants to take me there for training once I’ve mastered more of my Gifts. One of the words she taught me today was Ashke, which means ‘beloved’. Maybe I should call you that from now on, since you’re always going to be my beloved best friend. I’d say the same for Staven, but in his last letter that jerk called me rude words that I would never put in a letter to you. And all because I was late replying to the previous letter from him! That blockhead knows nothing about how long and exhausting patrol routes can be! Nothing even ever happens, except for the occasional horse thief, but staying awake and in the cold for so many days is so tiring. Especially when Savil won’t let you light a fire unless you do it with a Gift you barely even have! It’s not like Staven doesn’t hear from me if I don’t write anyways, so I don’t know why he’s such a prat sometimes._

_I’m finally going to be staying in Haven for more than a few days, and thank the Lord and Lady for that, I’m beyond sick of doing the border circuit! I never want to be stuck living in mud ever again, though I suspect I’ll end up doing it all over again in a few months. I have never been so happy to take a bath! Gala said that she’s never seen me bathe so much, the rude cow. She says hello, by the way. So do Mardic and Donnie, though they’ve started to roll their eyes whenever I mention you, so it might have been sarcastic._

_I hope you’re doing well and that your mother isn’t driving you to madness too quickly! I would say the same about your father, but I know there’s no hope there, and I just hope that you don’t suffer too much._

_Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go eat my weight in food again, and maybe take three more baths, just to enjoy having hot food and not having a second skin made out of mud._

_Tylendel_

~

_Dear Tylendel,_

_I hope you’re still home from the border in time to see this letter! You sounded awful tired last time you wrote, and Aunt Savil sounds like a real grouch._

_Though not as much of a grouch as father has been, ever since we came back from Rosewood last summer he’s been utterly impossible to please. More so than usual, I mean. Before, I could occasionally do things well enough that he’d grunt in what I sounded like an approving manner, but now I get nothing but scowls and lectures. Father Leren is practically following me around at this point and spouting sermons about ‘proper masculine behavior’ every time I turn around. I have no idea what I’ve done to set both of them off like this, but if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat!_

_In happier news, an actual bard came to Forst Reach! He was incredible, and even listened to me play! He gave me a few pointers, which was amazing, but what was even more amazing was that he said I played better than some of the students he’d listened to in Haven! He suggested I see about coming to the collegium, but I know father would never agree. I wish I could be learning actual interesting things and be able to see you when you’re not covered in mud somewhere in the freezing countryside, instead of being stuck here learning about how to collect taxes._

_Oh and before I forget, stop ignoring Staven, all his letters to me are filled with him complaining about you not speaking to him and little else! Obviously he misses you, and worries about you just as much as I do. Though I agree that he’s a total blockhead. I still can’t believe it took him two months to tell you about what happened during the summer festival. I stand by my promise to smack him upside his thick head next time I see him, though I suspect, as you said before, that doing so probably won’t force any sense into him._

_Speaking of your brother’s lack of sense, did he tell you what he sent me for Yuletide? I am very lucky no one caught sight of the woodblock print he sent me before I could burn it- Father Leren would probably lock me up in the rectory so he could give me a week-long sermon on indecency!_

_Tell Gala I say hello back and also tell Mardic and Donnie hello, but only if you don’t think it will bother them, though I’m a little confused why they don’t like me if I’ve never met them._

_By my hand and seal,_

_Vanyel Ashkevron_

_~_

_Dear Vanyel,_

_Firstly, thank you for telling Tylendel to stop ignoring me, even if he’s tired and busy. I’m glad to not have him blocking me out, it was starting to scare me since I wasn’t used to not having him there in the back of my mind. Apparently it’s easier to concentrate on all his Herald business without me nattering on in the background- I can’t help it if I_ think _loudly, what kind of complaint is that!_

_Secondly, did you really have to tell him to talk to me_ and _tell him about the woodblock print? I get nothing but disapproval and irritation from him now! It’s almost enough to make me wish he were blocking me out again!_

_Though I admit that after I sent it, I realized it probably was less funny than I thought it would be, especially if your father or that priest found out, so I’m sorry if I got you in trouble. If it makes you feel any better, Tylendel has been sending me endless mental streams of boring lectures on magic that I don’t understand, and which I can’t ignore, for hours at a time. Just imagine how bored to tears I am on a daily basis and feel better for my unending suffering._

_Staven_

~

Vanyel stood at the edge of the practice ring, clutching his sword. Radeval was already inside, fully armed aside from his helm.

This had to work. This had to be enough to convince Father and Jervis that Vanyel needed special training, like Liss, only in Haven. Haven, where he’d see Tylendel again. It had been nearly two years since he’d gone to Rosewood, more years alone in the crowded halls of Forst Reach, and he was going to go insane if he spent another one like it. His plan had to work.

It would work.

Vanyel exhaled slow and calm, and stepped into the ring.

~

Tylendel was enjoying a meat bun for lunch and ignoring Savil’s ribbing over the fact that it was his fourth (he was growing and _always_ hungry at this point), when it happened.

It was a shooting pain in his right arm, sharp enough to make him drop the meat bun and for the edges of his vision to go grey. He gasped and clutched at his arm, slowly sinking to the floor as he struggled to breathe through the pain.

“Tylendel! What’s wrong?” Savil was across the room in an instant, grabbing at his shoulder and trying to get him to uncurl around from around his arm.

The pain intensified, but Tylendel knew that it wasn’t him being hurt. His arm was fine, but hundreds of miles away, Staven was in pain and Tylendel was feeling it as his own. Along with the pain came emotions- confusion, shame, but most overwhelmingly, _fear_.

“Tylendel! Trainee, answer me!” Savil barked, fear making her voice even sharp than usual.

And abruptly, all of it, the pain, the emotions that were not his own, it all vanished, like a candle’s flame that had been blown out. Tylendel was left reeling, uncurling and letting his arm fall loose as he fought to catch his breath.

“I’m alright, Savil,” he said, once he could manage to form words.

Savil didn’t even need to say a thing, her unamused and unconvinced expression saying a thousand words for her.

“I’m not hurt,” Tylendel said and allowed Savil to look at his uninjured arm. She examined it closely, her frown deepening when it became clear that it was perfectly fine.

“What just happened?” She demanded. Tylendel hesitated. He was fairly certain what had happened wasn’t normal, even for a Herald-Mage Trainee. What if she found out about his link with Staven? She might make him try to get rid of it- and he couldn’t let that happen. He worried so much about his twin with the feud that continued to be a threat even years later. He wasn’t sure he could handle not being able to know in an instant if Staven was safe or not.

He couldn’t tell her about Staven. But he couldn’t lie to Savil, and there was no way she would let something like this go without explanation.

“That wasn’t nothing, Tylendel. You have to tell me what I just saw happen,” Savil said sternly. Her mouth was set in a frown, but Tylendel could easily see how concerned she was.

It was that concern that forced him to speak- Savil was like family to him. He couldn’t stand to make her worry.

Haltingly, he said, “It was Staven. I think he’s just broken his arm.” Savil’s eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to demand Tylendel explain himself, but Tylendel quickly cut her off, saying, “I swear, I’ll explain everything. On my honour, I swear. I just have to talk to Staven first. Just give me a minute, please.”

Savil’s jaw clenched, but she gave him a terse nod, so Tylendel focused on reaching out to Staven through their link. It was almost as easy as breathing, given how often they used it, especially now that they lived so far apart.

: _Staven? What just happened? Did you do something stupid again?_ ; Tylendel asked, trying to hide his worry in irritation, since he knew Staven already thought he worried too much. To Tylendel’s mind, one couldn’t worry too much when one’s twin was literally living in the middle of an age-old feud that had begun to boil over once again.

: _Huh? Tylendel?_ : Staven’s mindvoice was sleepy and soft, like he’d snuck off for a quick nap after lunch instead of returning to lessons.

Tylendel frowned. That was not how Staven with a serious injury would sound, and the pain Tylendel had felt hadn’t come from something silly like hitting an elbow on a table or a burn from freshly boiled tea.

: _Your arm, I felt you break it_ ,: he clarified, unease starting to settle in his gut like a stone.

: _Pretty sure I haven’t,_ : Staven replied, voice tinged sunshine-yellow with amusement, but Tylendel could sense the concern edging into Staven’s mind. : _My arm’s fine, Tylendel._ :

: _But I felt you break it!:_ Tylendel couldn’t have imagined something so intense. It had felt like his own bones were being snapped in half like seasoned wood.

: _Could it have been a bad dream? Yours, not mine- I wasn’t actually asleep yet_ ,: Staven said, amusement now fully turned to fear. The brothers had both worried about using the link following Tylendel’s explosive awakening of his Gifts, but they continued to use it regardless, given how instinctive it was for both of them. It didn’t mean that they both didn’t worry about the link hurting either of them again.

: _I was awake too- and before you suggest it, it wasn’t my imagination!:_ Tylendel knew he was being irrationally angry with Staven, it wasn’t his fault something strange was going on, but fear had always shortened Tylendel’s temper.

: _Tylendel-_ :

: _I’m sorry. It’ll be okay. I’ll figure out what’s happening, just be safe_.:

Before Staven could reply, Tylendel pulled away from him and refocused on what was happening in Haven. Savil was still crouched next to him, which had to be uncomfortable for her old bones, so Tylendel levered himself back onto the couch. Physically, he felt fine. His arm felt perfectly normal. Internally, however, he was shaken. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Savil perched herself next to Tylendel, her expression foreboding. “Trainee, you owe me an explanation,” she said, her voice sharp.

Tylendel hesitated- he’d only really ever had to explain the link to Vanyel, who hadn’t had any clue about Gifts or mindspeech. Explaining everything to Savil would be much, much harder. Finally, eyes firmly trained on his knees, Tylendel said, “Staven and I have some sort of link. We can use it to talk to each other, no matter the distance. We’ve had it ever since I can remember.”

Savil looked like she wanted to demand he explain why he’d never told her, or how such a thing was possible, but instead, in a very carefully modulated voice, one he’d only ever heard her use with council members who were being idiots but who were also important enough that she couldn’t shout at them, she asked, “And it also transmits pain? Allowing you to feel Staven break his arm?”

“It does let us feel each other’s pain; when we were kids, Staven fell down a well and I blacked out. But it wasn’t Staven’s arm that I felt breaking, he told me himself that his arm was fine” Tylendel said, eyes darting up to look at Savil’s face, just in time to see her expression go from anger to confusion.

“Then whose arm is it?” She asked, her gaze flicking down to Tylendel’s arm, as if she thought he’d somehow managed to break it without either of them noticing.

“I don’t know. This has never happened before,” Tylendel admitted, feeling fear well up inside him.

Savil sighed, a sound that was somehow almost comforting. It was the same sigh she gave whenever she caught Tylendel going for third helpings at meals or when he told her he’d outgrown his boots _again_. It made Tylendel feel like whatever was happening, Savil would have it solved in an afternoon come hell or high water.

“I’ll need to have a look in that head of yours then, trainee,” she said, saying the words that Tylendel had been dreading from the moment he realized he’d have to tell Savil about the link.

“You can’t take the link away,” he said desperately.

Savil regarded him silently for a long moment, her normally expressive face not giving away a single thing. At last she said, “I’ve never even heard of such a thing. For all we know it isn’t even possible to remove it.”

“You _can’t_ ,” Tylendel repeated. “It’s the only way I know Staven’s safe while all those Leshara bastards are-”

“That isn’t how a Herald looks at the world,” Savil said firmly, but without anger. She paused, taking in Tylendel’s anguished expression and added, more gently, “But I will promise I won’t touch the link. I’d need to have a Mind-Healer take a look at it before we even _begin_ to think about doing something like that.”

Tylendel hesitated for another long moment, uncertain if he liked the sound of that, but nodded his acquiescence. Savil placed her hand on his head, closed her eyes, and pushed _down_ and _out_.

A moment later she opened her eyes again and said in an odd voice, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Tylendel echoed.

“Huh,” Savil agreed, and sat back against the couch with a weary sigh. It had already been a busy morning for both of them, even before all of this had happened. Lord and Lady, why in the Havens had she agreed to take charge of three younglings all at once? She wasn’t too old for this, she was too _ancient_. “I can tell you that no one, not even a Mind-Healer, could remove that link, even if you wanted it out,” she said, wearily pinching the bridge of her nose. “It looks like it was one of the first things your mind built, removing it would cripple you so badly I expect you wouldn’t be able to remember how to even talk, if the shock didn’t kill you outright first.”

“Oh. That’s good to know,” Tylendel said, feeling a faint sense of relief along with no small measure of terror at knowing how easily he could be hurt- if one thought of someone trying to pull the link out as _easy_.

“And then there’s the matter of the second link I found-” Savil started to say.

“ _Second_ link?! What second link?” Tylendel demanded, barely stopping himself from grabbing Savil by the shoulders.

Savil gave him a weary smile and said, “Congratulations, Tylendel. You’re lifebonded.”

“ _What?!_ ”

~

Miles away, Vanyel was tucked up in bed, mind still reeling from the shouting match he’d endured from both Jervis and his father. He bit his lip against the sobs that wanted to escape from his throat, and which would let every single person lurking outside his door how desperately heartbroken he was.

He’d just wanted to prove himself, to find a way to leave his home and his family, and get back to his _real_ brothers, Tylendel and Staven.  He bit his lip harder and tried to focus on the pain that caused, and the drug-fogged pain in his arm, rather than the sharp pain in his heart. He couldn’t take much more of this, of not belonging, of wanting some unknown thing that he couldn’t find in Forst Reach, of being _alone_.

A tear slid down his face, and a tiny whimper escaped from his mouth, just barely audible. From the doorway, Vanyel swore he could hear snickering.

He breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. He wrestled his pain, his loneliness down. He wasn’t alone. He had Tylendel, Staven, and Liss, even if they weren’t with him right then. He’d just have to find another way to get to them. He could survive until then.

Nothing could hurt him until then. He wouldn’t let it.

~

“A _lifebond_?” Tylendel repeated stupidly. It had to have been at least the fifth time he’d said as such in the twenty minutes since Savil had dropped her little revelation on him.

“Yes, Tylendel, a lifebond,” Savil snapped from the only comfortable chair in the room, having lost all patience for Tylendel’s emotional crisis a good fifteen minutes previous.

“Are you _sure_ you have no idea who it could be?” Donnie asked Tylendel. Savil had brought in her other two trainees in the vain hopes that their experience with their own lifebond might help Tylendel figure out how in Haven’s name he’d managed to lifebond and not _notice_. So far it was proving just as useless as anything else Savil had tried.

“No,” Tylendel said, raking both hands through his already disheveled hair, as he’d been doing repeatedly for the last twenty minutes. “I’ve had my fair share of...” he trailed off awkwardly, eyes darting to Savil, like he thought she still had the capacity to be shocked by adolescent foolishness at her age and with as many trainees she’d had under her wing.

“Trysts?” Mardic suggested with a wicked grin that said he was greatly enjoying seeing his ordinarily composed fellow trainee so thoroughly thrown.

“ _Encounters_ ,” Tylendel said firmly, his face flushing faintly. “But none of them were anything terribly special.”

“What about Nevis?” Donnie asked and Savil couldn’t be bothered to even try to keep the scowl from her face. That little toad had taken Tylendel through the wringer and left him to hang high and dry on his own, and she’d be _damned_ if Tylendel was forced to associate with the bastard ever again, lifebond or not.

Thankfully, Tylendel shook his head. “No, even when I’d convinced myself I was in love with him, part of me knew that things wouldn’t be permanent,” he said and Savil breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that she wouldn’t have to scare the life out of an over-privileged noble.

“What about someone who’s important to you who hasn’t been in your bed?” Donnie suggested, a thoughtful expression on her face.

The three of them turned to her in surprise, Savil with her eyebrows raised. Donnie rolled her eyes at them all.

“All of you forget that a lifebond doesn’t _necessarily_ have to be romantic,” she said patiently. “It almost always is, but it can be platonic. Not everyone enjoys sex, you know. And you remember Herald Linus and Healer Jays- they were both married to other people when they bonded and they never became lovers.” She shot Mardic a soft, sweet look that had Tylendel ducking is head- it felt too personal, too intimate for him to witness, and she said, “You’d _know_ when you met your lifebonded, Tylendel. It wouldn’t be with someone you tumbled once or twice in your bed. Meeting your lifebonded is something you’d never forget, even if you didn’t realize that you were bonding.”

Tylendel’s frown deepened. “I just can’t think of anyone that important to me, aside from you three, and Staven. Maybe some of the other Herald trainees, but-” Tylendel froze mid word, his eyes going wide, the colour draining from his face. “ _Vanyel_ ,” he breathed, understanding flooding into him. His lifebonded was Vanyel. It had been years since he’d last seen him, but how could he have even thought it could be anyone else? Of course it was Vanyel.

“Vanyel?” Savil repeated disbelievingly.

“Who’s Vanyel?” Mardic asked, looking back and forth from Tylendel to Savil and back again eyebrows raised in confusion.

“My nephew,” Savil said, just as Tylendel said, “My lifebonded.”

Savil gave Tylendel a narrow-eyed look even as Tylendel started to babble, one hand clutching at his hair again, “But we met when he was nine! I was only eleven! How is that even possible?” His eyes darted to Savil and he added, “Savil, I swear we never- I never- he was _nine_.”

“I _told_ you it could be platonic,” Donnie said smugly.

Savil sighed explosively and said, “Well, you certainly don’t do things by halves, do you, trainee?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of weird time jumps this chapter, and I tried to make it clear how old everyone was and how much time had passed between each part, but if you're confused, I don't blame you, just let me know and I'll try to clear things up better.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kind comments! Sorry Tylendel wasn't in this chapter much, but I swear he'll be around more next time ;)
> 
> (As always, you can find me on tumblr  here )


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a year late with Starbucks*  
> Uhhhh, hey everyone! Life happened a whole lot this past year, and it’s probably going to keep happening this year too. I’m hoping the next chapter won’t take a year, but I can’t make any promise (I’m really sorry!!)  
> Thank you for your patience and comments! <3

They’d been having this argument for an endlessly long period of time. Neither of them would back down. Normally Tylendel was her most obedient trainee, but when he dug his heels in… Well, Savil was about ready to yank her own hair out in frustration.

“Look- you can’t go to him, Tylendel” Savil said. Her expression was stern, her words firm.

Tylendel had to look away, guilt and fear warring in his gut. “You’re not listening to me, Savil. It’s not just that his arm’s broken- he’s scared, _terrified_ , for his life- I don’t know how to explain to you in words how afraid I felt him feel. It was like staring down the face of Lord Death himself. I _have_ to go to him.”

Tylendel tried to push past her to reach his bags, slumped against the wall. Savil stepped in his way, stopping him surprisingly well for such a small woman.

“And you’re not listening to me,” Savil snapped, her limited patience wearing to a thread. “We’re at least two weeks away from Haven- with good weather and the Lord and Lady’s good favour on your side, mind you- not to mention how long it would take to travel to Forst Reach. By the time you got there, Vanyel’s arm would practically be healed.”

“But-”

“I’m not finished,” Savil said pointedly, glowering until Tylendel subsided. “What do you think would happen if you went charging into Forst Reach like a fool, shouting about lifebonds? I scarcely managed to get you out of there before that pack of imbeciles tried to exorcise you because of your Gifts.”

Tylendel’s eyes went wide at the implication, fear crossing across his face like a dark cloud, and Savil felt a twinge of guilt, even as she forced herself for continue, “Haven knows what my idiot brother and that clod of a priest would do to poor Vanyel if you showed up claiming to have a mystical bond with him. One that’s typically known to be only formed between lovers.”

Tylendel went a little green and looked up at her, stricken, like she’d just broken _his_ arm. Sighing, Savil patted his shoulder gingerly. Ah, these younglings would be the death of her.

“He’ll be alright, Tylendel. We’ll figure this bond business out once we return to Haven.”

“I can’t just _leave_ him,” Tylendel insisted. His expression said that she wouldn’t get a moment’s rest if she left the conversation as is, regardless of how much she wanted to. She swore telling trainees things they didn’t want to hear was like trying to have a discussion with a brick wall, only with more teenage angst. The wall would probably be more reasonable to boot.

Savil was tempted to throw her hands up in frustration, but she held the impulse back, just barely, and said, “So write him a letter. I’m sure he’d be happy to hear from you.”

“Withen’s been keeping his letters back, I’m fairly certain,” Tylendel said with a grimace, scrubbing one hand through his already thoroughly disheveled curls. He took a few steps backwards and flopped bonelessly into one of the overstuffed chairs, like all the fight had drained out of him. “He hasn’t replied to any of my letters or Staven’s for months. I was going to ask you to get involved, but then we left Haven and… Well, I didn’t want to worry you. Obviously- Well, obviously that was a mistake,” Tylendel said, his voice tight.

Savil frowned. She wouldn’t put it past her brother, the old stubborn ass that he was, but why would he bother? He’d allowed the brothers to communicate with Vanyel for years, even after the whole scene Savil had caused when she’d shown up. So why now?

“It’s not your fault Tylendel,” She said firmly, hoping to keep her student from spiraling down into guilt. She wondered fruitlessly for the hundredth time why anyone had thought she’d be suited to dealing with trainees. These three and their drama should have been handed off to Lancir- he would have known what to do with these younglings who had emotions in place of any sense. Hell, almost anyone would have been better than her- _Jays_ would have been a better bet than she was.

“When did this start?” She asked at length, when Tylendel continued to stare off into space, not seeming to even have heard her the first time.

“A few months after Vanyel and Withen went to Rosewood for the summer festival,” Tylendel said, his lips twisting into a fretful frown. “Normally Vanyel’s quick to reply, but he never answered one of my letters, or the second one I sent in case the first one had gotten lost. Then Staven told me Vanyel hadn’t been replying to his either.”

Savil sighed, trying to quell the urge to hunt her brother down and strangle him. It was an urge that had only grown more common the older they god. Whoever said wisdom came with age was sorely mistaken.

“It’s no permanent solution, but you can send a letter with my signature and seal,” Savil suggested.

Tylendel nodded, but he had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was scarcely listening. Savil sighed and left the room. She’d met her daily maximum dose of teenage melodramatics, and there was a nice cup of wine calling her name in the taproom downstairs. She’d know in an instant if Tylendel ignored her and tried to run after Vanyel, and It was hardly like Tylendel could do anything foolish alone in a shabby rented room of an inn.

~

Tylendel hardly noticed Savil leaving, finally responding to Staven’s repeated prodding- which had only gotten more irritating the longer he’d ignored him in favour of talking to Savil.

: _So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?_ : Staven’s voice was sardonic, but Tylendel could hear the current of concern underneath it. If Tylendel really focused, he could almost feel the quill Staven was holding, hear the scratch of it against the parchment. He was probably in the middle of a lesson, dragged back in after Tylendel had spoken to him nearly a candlemark past.

In a flash of stupidity, Tylendel was tempted to lie and say everything was fine. It was a stupid impulse- he and Staven couldn’t lie thought-to-thought, so Tylendel begrudgingly said, : _It’s a bit complicated…:_

_:So uncomplicate it.:_

_:It seems I’ve somehow… formed a bond with Vanyel,:_ Tylendel said haltingly.

He felt Staven’s hand jerk, likely ruining whatever parchment he’d been writing on. : _You what? How? Why?:_

_:It was an accident. Probably. I didn’t know it was there until this evening,_ : Tylendel said. He paused and then added, : _You’re not going to like this, but Vanyel must have broken his arm.:_

_:I kind of suspected that when you asked_ me _if I’d broken my arm without noticing,:_ Staven said. His tone was oddly acidic, but Tylendel hadn’t the faintest idea why.

: _It wasn’t like he just fell out of a tree or something, Staven. He was afraid, for his life. I’ve never felt fear like that, and it wasn’t even mine. It was like he thought he was about to die,_ : Tylendel said. He absently rubbed one hand over his forearm, the one Vanyel had broken. It was a testament to how dangerous bonds could be- his body felt entirely fine, but there was a corner of his mind that was still convinced he was grievously hurt, despite the injury not even belonging to him.

He felt Staven pause, a rush of concern washing away the strange bitter-acid taste of his thoughts. : _Was he in that sort of danger? What happened?:_

: _I don’t know. This bond isn’t like ours, I can’t reach out and talk to him like I can with you.  I jut felt the pain and his fear. It came out of nowhere and nearly knocked me on my ass, and then was gone just as fast.:_

_:If the bond isn’t like ours, what is it?_ :

This was where Tylendel hesitated, raking a nervous hand through his hair for the hundredth time. There had often been a sort of tension between Vanyel and Staven when they’d met as children. It had faded over time, as Staven and Vanyel had become friends, but it hadn’t ever fully faded away, just a faint aftertaste in Staven’s mind-voice sometimes when they spoke about Vanyel.

: _It’s a lifebond, or that’s what Savil thinks. It’s formed between- between people with close emotional ties,:_ Tylendel fumbled. He pushed aside the niggling hint of guilt that tried to blossom in his gut. He wasn’t lying to Staven. He just… wasn’t telling him all the details. It wasn’t a terrible thing. He’d have plenty of time to explain it fully. Hopefully after having been able to talk to Vanyel about it first.

: _A lifebond, huh? Sounds serious. How common is that sort of thing with you Heralds?:_ Staven’s voice didn’t sound suspicious, only curious, and Tylendel felt him begin to write again, quill smoothly gliding across parchment.

_:On its own, they’re uncommon, but I’ve never heard of anyone bonding without noticing right away. This had to have happened years ago, when my Gifts first manifested.:_

Staven was silent for a long few minutes. Tylendel could feel him chewing on his thumbnail, an old habit he’d had ever since they’d been children.

At long length, Staven finally said, : _While I do find it hilarious you somehow managed to not notice something like this, there is something bothering me about all of this._ :

: _Vanyel’s broken arm_ ,: Tylendel said grimly. He sagged further into the chair, sighing audibly. Given time to cool off, Savil’s assessment of the situation seemed fair. He couldn’t go to Forst Reach.

But he couldn’t sit back and do nothing either.

: _And if you what you said about it not being just an accident is true… You haven’t gotten any letters from him recently, have you?:_ Staven asked, accompanied by the barest hint of… some emotion Tylendel couldn’t identify

_:No, not since a few months after he came back from seeing you at the festival. Have you?:_ Tylendel asked. He frowned. There was something about saying that phrase that niggled at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside as Staven replied, in a small voice, _:No.:_

And there- that faint taste of that unknown emotion, sour like lemons, heavy and lingering on the back of his tongue almost like-

: _There’s something you aren’t telling me. You know why Withen’s keeping our letters from Vanyel, don’t you?_ : Tylendel asked suspiciously.

Staven didn’t need to reply- that same lemon flavour boiled up, filling Tylendel’s mouth with eyewatering sourness, so easy to identify as guilt.

: _Staven, what happened at the festival? What aren’t you telling me?_ : Tylendel struggled to keep his mindvoice calm and non-judgmental. It was difficult, his fear over Vanyel’s panic that afternoon mixing with his building worry about the months spent waiting for replies to the many letters he’d sent, which never had come.

Staven sighed long and slow. When he spoke, he sounded tired, his voice tinged with regret. : _I told you about the death of Analisbeth at the hands of Uncle, and how I had to convince Withen not to go storming out in the middle of the night, dragging poor Vanyel with him. What I didn’t tell you was what happened right before those events._ :

Staven paused again, long enough that Tylendel said, _:Just tell me. I promise, on my honor, I won’t be angry. I just need to know what happened._ :

: _It wasn’t anything serious. I was teasing Vanyel about not having much luck with the ladies and well, we kissed. Withen came in right after- we were finished, but it was a compromising moment, and I expect he knew what we were doing,:_ Staven explained, all in a rush. : _Once they got back to Forst Reach, I expect Withen didn’t realize right away we still wrote to each other, but once he did…_ :

Tylendel nearly bit a hole in his lip, and held back the first three things that came to mind. He had no right to feel jealous- he hadn’t seen Vanyel in years, he didn’t know if he was even shay'a'chern. He didn’t even know what Vanyel _looked_ like. And yet. Vanyel was _his_ lifebonded. Not Staven’s.

Tylendel closed his eyes and pushed the jealousy aside, and then the anger- _what had Staven been thinking, what a foolish, risky thing to do with Vanyel’s father around!-_ and exhaled slowly.

When he’d fully gotten ahold of himself, he said, : _It’s okay, Staven. It was an accident._ :

: _It was stupid! I shouldn’t have done it, but I was just so focused on wanting Vanyel to have fun with the little time he had here. He looked so miserable when he got here, and the way Withen talked to him… It made me sick._ :

: _Let’s just focus on the matter at hand,_ : Tylendel said, forcing himself to push his growing anger with Staven aside again. It was foolish of him, and indulging in his own anger rarely boded well for him.

: _You mean Withen breaking Vanyel’s arm?_ : Staven asked, his voice bitter, somehow feeling rough like sandpaper in Tylendel’s mind.

: _Do you honestly think Withen could have done something like this?_ : Tylendel asked, feeling a little foolish. He wanted to believe that Vanyel’s father couldn’t be so heartless. The alternative made his chest ache with worry.

: _They locked you up in a cell, Tylendel,:_ Staven said, his voice cold and hard as ice. : _I don’t trust a single rat in that ship, aside from Vanyel._ :

Tylendel sighed. : _There’s nothing I can do here. I’m too far from Haven, much less Forst Reach. Savil’s offered to let me send a letter under her seal, but that will take weeks if not months.:_

Staven paused, making a vague humming noise Tylendel always associated with him making plans, usually ones that spelled trouble for anyone involved. : _I’m riding out to collect taxes from some of the tenant farms further away from Rosewood,:_ he remarked.

: _So?_ :

: _I’ll only be a few days away from Forst Reach at the furthest farm. I can have to armsmen return to Rosewood with the taxes without me, and I can ride to Forst Reach myself from there,_ : Staven said calmly.

It was more than Tylendel could ever have brought himself to ask for. His twin was in a situation even more precarious than Vanyel. Even the simple act of disobeying their uncle could tip the scales, and cause the ongoing feud to boil over in unexpected ways. Tylendel was filled with worry for Vanyel to the point of distraction, but there was no way he’d ever be able to ask his twin to make such a move.

But if he was offering…

: _There’s one more thing. If Withen broke Vanyel’s arm, he can’t stay there. Withen was already pushing Vanyel before Rosewood, and if he suspects anything…_ : Tylendel trailed off. There would be no Savil riding in to save Vanyel if Forst Reach got it into their heads that Vanyel’s differences need to be punished. There would be no friend to pick the lock on the cell, or to visit in the darkest hours to give him hope.

: _Rosewood might be safer for him, even with all that’s going on here. At least I’d be able to protect him, and Uncle would too, after I explained things to him,_ : Staven surmised.

: _Please,_ : Tylendel said, with barely a second’s reflection. : _Get him out of there._ :

: _Of course,_ : Staven said.

~

Down past the tenant fields, the rambling orchards, and the river where Staven and Vanyel had waited out the hottest hours of midsummer, lay a small house. It was on Frelennye land, technically, but the family that lived there had long since broken ties with Rosewood. In the small kitchen, nearly a dozen people were crowded around the ancient table. Their faces were solemn as they listened to the man seated at the head of the table, reading from a letter he’d received that morning.

“-which means the mage will arrive within the week,” he concluded, and set the letter down on the table.

For a moment, no one spoke. The group had gathered often, more frequently the longer the feud with the Freylennes boiled over, but this was the first time anything had come from the meetings, aside from mutual grumblings about what their enemy had done to them this time. When Lord Wester Leshara himself had proposed more direct action, months previous, it had been easy to agree, with heads full of poorly-brewed ale, and hearts hardened with years of accumulated slights and vitriol.

But now, at this table, just miles away from the Rosewood estate, it seemed that much more difficult.

At last, one of the younger men at the table asked hesitantly, “Are we certain about this?”

The man who had read the letter glowered at him, snapping “It is the perfect time. The Frelennye brat will be returning from collecting tithes within days, and his uncle will not leave to inspect the vineyards for at least a fortnight.”

“No, I mean… Are we certain about doing any of this?” The younger man asked, and then shrunk down in his chair when the man at the head of the table stood up sharply, his chair falling over with a clatter.

“After all they’ve done, after Analisbeth? Despite years of our petitions, the crown does nothing, but send those cowardly Heralds who do naught but pour flowery words of _peace_ in our ears. Peace? Pah!” At this the man slammed both palms on the table, making everyone around it jump. He glowered at all of them, meeting each of their gazes as he continued in a low growl, “The Freylennes are godless creatures, and if left unchecked it will not just be our crops and our livestock that suffer- already a mother and child are dead at their hands- and our children will be next. By doing as Lord Wester instructs, we are doing the Lord and Lady’s work.”

Slowly, each person at the table nodded their head, a fire burning in their eyes, and they began to discuss what remained of their plans.

The young man who had spoken bit his lip, but held his tongue and stayed silent the rest of the evening.

~

Of course, simply showing up at Forst Reach unannounced would have been a terrible idea for several reasons, so Staven gave it careful thought while riding as quickly as his horse could handle. Having lived in the keep for several months was useful, especially since he and Tylendel had been at the right age to be easily ignored and equally prone to roaming around the estate given the chance, with their primary goal of staying out from supervision whenever possible.

A childhood of avoiding tutors and armsmen alike made it easy enough to sneak in unnoticed. He left his mare in one of the stalls he knew the groomsmen rarely used, and snuck around the side of the main building to an entrance so hard to find that Staven was fairly certain no one had used it in all the time since he’d found it while hiding from one of the cooks after he’d stolen an entire loaf of freshly baked bread.

He’d have to be quick about finding Vanyel- someone would eventually have to notice that there was one more horse than there should have been in the stables. Not to mention how many people lived and worked in the keep. He’d only be able to avoid so many sets of eyes, especially in the middle of the day. Frankly, it would have made more sense to wait for nightfall, but Tylendel had been ‘checking in’ at least eight times a day to see if he’d reached Vanyel, each time growing a little more frantic. Staven was honestly not sure he could handle any more second-hand panic.

Not that he wasn’t worried about Vanyel. He’d spent less than a year at Forst Reach, and he’d seen first hand how clannish the whole lot of them could be. There was no telling what sort of violence they could convince each other was acceptable.

The side door lead to what probably had at one point been intended to be a small pantry, given the dusty shelving, and it opened up into an equally unused hallway. He pulled the hood up on his cloak- it was almost he same colour as the one armsmen wore if you weren’t looking too closely, and he slipped by a maid, all but holding his breath the whole time. The woman didn’t so much as glance at him, and it was all Staven could do not to melt with relief.

He passed a few more servants on his way up to where he remembered the boys’ dormitory being, but each person was as uninterested as the last. Once upstairs, he hesitated outside the door. At that time of day, all of the boys should have been either in lessons with the tutor, or outside in the training salle with Jervis, but it wasn’t like Staven had been the only one to sneak out of lessons when he got bored enough. Out of anyone living in the keep, the boys would be the ones most likely to recognize him, after Withen, Jervis, and Father Leren.

Standing around like an idiot outside the door wasn’t going to do any good, so he cautiously cracked the door open, and peered around its edge.

All his worry had been for nothing- there was no one there, not even Vanyel. In fact… it almost looked like the room had been abandoned entirely. Only one of the beds had any blankets on it, and there were hardly any personal effects strewn about, like Staven remembered.

So much for that plan. Older boys slept in the bachelor’s hall, but usually not until they were of age or near to it. It didn’t seem likely that Vanyel would be down there, since he’d expressed distain about having to move down when they’d been kids- the hall was even noisier than the boys’ dorm usually was.

On a hunch, Staven snuck down to the library, ducking his head deeper into his hood whenever he passed an armsman or maid. The library was the same as it had been when he was eleven- well stocked, full of light, and entirely deserted. Frankly, if Staven didn’t want to be found, he could simply stay in the library and never be seen by a soul for at least for a few days.

He swore the door into the secret room had gotten even smaller while he’d been away; his shoulders nearly got stuck and he had to wriggle to get free, tripping over his own feet as he did so.

There was a clatter and a voice shrieked, “Havens!”

Staven stumbled to his feet and looked up. Vanyel was standing on the far side of the room, by the window, one hand clutching at his chest, a book fallen to the floor at his feet.

He’d grown since in the time since the summer festival- obviously he had, he’d been thirteen that summer, and he was nearing fifteen now, and Staven had also grown in the intervening time- but Vanyel hadn’t just gotten older, he’d gotten _handsome._ His angular face didn’t look over-sharp and narrow like it had as a child- it looked fey and only made his grey eyes stand out all the more. Detracting from his handsomeness was the string of bruises on his left cheek that trailed down his jaw. Worst of all was his right arm, strapped to his chest and bound up in bulky bandages.

“S-Staven?” He asked incredulously, eyes wide as saucers.

“Tylendel was right!” Staven blurted without thinking. He hadn’t _really_ doubted his brother, but it had seemed a little far-fetched during the long ride to Forst Reach, and he’d almost convinced himself that Tylendel had been mistaken somehow. He honestly would have preferred to have been sent out to see Vanyel for nothing, rather than having to see him look like hell.

“What?” Vanyel asked, looking perplexed. “What about Tylendel? Why are you here?” He paused, eyeing Staven’s clearly travel-worn clothing, and added, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“No one knows I’m here, I snuck in,” Staven said, figuring Vanyel’ last question would be the least difficult to answer. “I figured that would be for the best, considering your father…”

“Well. Yes,” Vanyel said, still staring at him like he wasn’t sure Staven was actually there in the room with him. “But _why_ are you here?”

“That part’s kind of complicated, but basically…” Staven trailed off uncomfortably. Even with all the time it had taken to get to the keep, he hadn’t been able to come up with an adequately vague explanation of how and what a lifebond was, without getting into the romantic part of it.

He hadn’t believed Tylendel’s crock of horseshit about it only signifying a deep emotional connection for a second- he wasn’t stupid, Tylendel had followed Vanyel around as kids like a lovesick puppy and even years and miles apart, he still fussed over Vanyel like nothing else. It was typical, frustrating Tylendel- trying to keep a secret from Staven like that- but Staven figured he had a reason for it, so it wouldn’t sit right with him to explain _everything_ to Vanyel. But lying was right out too. Damn Tylendel for putting him in this position.

“He’s formed… a bond with you. Sort of like the one between me and him,” Staven settled on lamely.

Vanyel frowned. “He what? How? When? What do you mean a bond?”

Staven sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This was exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid dealing with. Damn Tylendel.

“I honestly don’t know much more than you. Tylendel said that the bond had to have formed when we lived here, without either of you realizing it. He doesn’t know how or why it formed, but that it has something to do with your friendship and his Gifts… Probably. This whole thing is just as baffling to Herald-Mages apparently.”

“That’s not terribly comforting,” Vanyel said dryly and sat back down on the window ledge, bending to scoop up his fallen book. The motion drew Staven’s attention to Vanyel’s broken arm, as he struggled to keep it tucked out of the way.

“More importantly- how did _that_ happen?” Staven asked, gesturing at Vanyel’s injured state. “Tylendel _felt_ it happen somehow and flew into a panic, which is why I’m here.”

“He was worried about me?” Vanyel asked, eyes widening, completely missing the point.

Staven barely held back to urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. Savil has him up in some godforsaken corner of Valdemar and it would have taken him at least a month to get here. So he badgered me into coming instead.”

“Oh,” Vanyel said, voice a little small. His cheeks pinked slightly, before he took on a slightly guilty expression. “You both didn’t need to worry so much- my arm, it’s fine- well, it hurts like hell, but it’s… it’s just broken. It’s nothing to fuss over.”

Vanyel’s expression was brittle, his smile false, and the words coming out of his mouth had to have been parroted from someone else. Staven wanted to wring the necks of whoever was responsible for that.

“Vanyel,” Staven said, expression serious. “What happened?”

Vanyel’s face crumpled. “I just wanted to get sent away,” he said in a small voice. He looked out the window, down at the empty training yard, mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “It was stupid, but I thought if I could prove that I needed a different style of arms training, father would send me away, like he did to Lissa when I was a younger. It was right before you and Tylendel came.”

Staven had to bite his tongue bloody to keep from interrupting Vanyel’s account of what had lead up to his fight with Radeval, but when he got to the part about Jervis striking him down over and over, he couldn’t hold himself back from shouting, “That heartless _bastard_.”

Vanyel jumped, eyes going wide. “Staven-”

“We have to get you out of here,” Staven said, mind already racing, trying to figure out the easiest way to smuggle Vanyel back to Rosewood. The Freleyenne-Leshara feud might have been almost boiling over, but at least Staven could be certain that no one would be allowed to beat Vanyel half to death on his father’s orders. He’d agreed with Tylendel, but he’d been a bit hesitant at the time, but now…

“Staven-”

“I’ll figure out how to convince Uncle not to tell Withen where you are on the trip back. How much do you have to pack? If you only have a trunk, we could leave tonight, and-”

“Staven!”

Staven jumped, mind wrenching back to the present. Vanyel was on his feet, his eyes glittering oddly like-

“Are you crying?” Staven asked, startled.

“No,” Vanyel said thickly, even as he scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand. “Shut up. I just… I missed you.” He smiled brightly, and Staven couldn’t help but smile back, even as Vanyel’s next words took it right off of his face: “Things have been- well, difficult here. To say the least. But I can’t just leave Forst Reach.”

“Why not?” Staven demanded. He could feel Tylendel shifting in the back of his mind, trying to get his attention, but he ignored him- his twin could wait, this was much more important.

“I’m my father’s heir,” Vanyel said simply. “If I just disappeared, father would tear the country apart looking for me. Not because he ca-” Vanyel started to say, but cut himself off, guilt flicking across his face. He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to; Staven heard it loud and clear. _Not because he cares about me._

Vanyel cleared his throat, and continued, as if he hadn’t stopped. “Well, he’d have to at least seem like he was tearing the country apart trying to find me. Think about what it would look like if I disappeared and he didn’t bother to look for me- as his heir. What would the other lords think? And what about your uncle?” Vanyel added, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “Even if he agreed to hide me, there’s almost no way the news wouldn’t reach my father eventually, and your uncle would be the one to take the brunt of the blame for ‘kidnapping me’. And that’s assuming that father didn’t look for me at Rosewood first.”

Staven pursed his lips. He hated how much sense Vanyel was making. The tight, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was uncomfortably familiar- an echo of what he’d felt when Tylendel had been locked up in the bowels of Forst Reach and there hadn’t been a damn thing Staven could do.

“I can’t just leave you here,” he said at length.

Vanyel’s mouth quirked into a mischievous grin, one that Staven thought he might have learned from _him_. “Well,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to leave right away, do you?”

Staven shook his head. “No, I was about to leave to collect taxes from some of the landholders a few days’ ride away from here when Tylendel told me I needed to find you. The armsmen I was with weren’t too happy about going to the last few tenant farms on their own, much less about returning to Rosewood without me, but they’re used to this sort of thing from me,” he said with a wink.

~

Thousands of miles away, Tylendel let out a careful sigh of relief. He was supposed to be helping Savil figure out what was going wrong when Mardic and Donnie tried to work in concert, but he’d really been repeatedly pestering Staven until he told him what was happening. He’d known that Staven had to have reached Forst Reach, given how close he’d been when Tylendel had bothered him around dawn (much to Staven’s disgust), but Staven had stopped answering around the time he should have been arriving at the keep.

 “So, what do you think about that attempt?” Savil’s sharp voice brought him back to the present. He turned to her, and she raised one expectant eyebrow at him.

“Uh. Improving, somewhat. But something is still not quite right,” Tylendel said, echoing what he’d said the last four times Savil had asked him for feedback.

“Is that so?” Savil asked. She snorted, her head tipping towards Mardic and Donnie- or rather where Mardic and Donnie had been the last Tylendel had noticed. Now, there was a distinct lack of his fellow Herald-Mage trainees.

“Savil-” Tylendel started to say, but cut himself off when he realized he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He honestly didn’t have any sort of excuse, apart from _Vanyel_.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t snap at him, which was honestly probably better than Tylendel deserved.

In the week since they’d discovered the bond, Tylendel had been less than useless.

“We may be out in the boonies, Tylendel, but even we would have heard if something terrible had happened to my nephew by now,” Savil said. “Gossip like that travels faster than the post.”

She was trying to be comforting, Tylendel knew, but it only irritated Tylendel further, and he had to bite back several snappish responses he knew he wouldn’t really mean.

Vanyel was well-known to be a little _odd_ by a rural lord’s measuring stick- too fey, too soft, too interested in pursuits that had little value to men like Withen. If Withen took stricter measures to attempt to shape Vanyel into the heir he needed, well, most people outside of Haven wouldn’t find it even remarkable enough to gossip about. Both Savil and Tylendel knew this, and the fact that Savil wanted to pretend otherwise, even just to comfort her trainee almost was enough to make Tylendel see red.

But snapping at his mentor would hardly be productive. _Nothing_ Tylendel could do at that point would be productive, apart from waiting for news from Staven.

So, he bit his tongue, apologized again for having his head in the clouds, and headed back to the inn once Savil dismissed him.

He’d only just settled down with a mug of cider when he felt a familiar brush at he back of his mind- Staven.

_:You can stop harassing me every candlemark, I’m inside Forst Reach with Vanyel,_ : Staven said. His words were teasing, but Tylendel could feel the undercurrent of exhaustion and worry under them.

Tylendel felt a small twinge of guilt- he really had been obnoxious about checking on Staven’s progress, but it had been hard to resist the little voice in his head that was insisting something very wrong had happened, and that he had to fix it.

: _Did you get inside safely?_ : Tylendel asked. They both knew the sort of fuss that Staven being discovered in the Keep would cause. Not to mention both of their residual paranoia about the occupants of the keep, following Tylendel’s imprisonment.

: _Not a soul recognized me. But I’m staying hidden in the library, just in case. Vanyel just left to sneak us up some food from the kitchen,_ : Staven replied. His tone grew grimmer, as he added, _:We were right to be worried about Vanyel. His arm is broken._ :

Tylendel felt torn. On the one hand, it meant Savil was right… they were lifebonded. But it also meant that the fear he’d felt was also real.

Tylendel had to bite his tongue several times to keep himself silent as Staven explained how Vanyel’s arm had come to be broken.

: _I’m not sure I’m happy to know that I was right. I’d rather have sent you on a wild-goose chase._ :

: _That’s not the worst part,_ : Staven said grimly. : _Bones can heal. Muscles can be strengthened. But these bastards almost managed to convince him that it was his fault.:_

Tylendel felt sick to his stomach. He knew the answer, even as he asked, : _That_ what _was his fault?_ :

: _That Jervis breaking his arm was his fault. That Withen letting Jervis breaking his arm was his fault. That all of his siblings and cousins treating him like dirt is his fault._ : Staven’s voice was ice and stone, cold and unyielding. Tylendel knew it was because if Staven let himself feel all the things that his words wanted to provoke in him, there’d be no chance of calming his temper down again. Tylendel had to struggle to o the same before he could respond.

: _I was right. We have to get him out of Forst Reach. Immediately. You have to take him back to Rosewood_ ,: Tylendel said. Savil had said they only had a few more days until they’d start the long trip back to Haven. From there, he was pretty sure he could convince her to allow him to go to Rosewood and see Vanyel. After that, well, between the three of them, potentially with Savil and their Uncle’s help, they could find somewhere safe to hide Vanyel away from his father. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than doing _nothing_. He was sick of doing nothing.

Staven didn’t say anything for a long moment. His mind felt like oil spilled on water- there was something he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t _want_ to say, but it was something he needed to say nonetheless.

Tylendel took a fortifying sip of his cider, and asked wearily, : _What is it?_ :

: _I can’t take him away from Forst Reach, Tylendel_.: They were using their mindvoices, so it made no sense for a sore throat to effect one’s voice, but Staven’s voice still sounded croaky, like he was trying very hard not to cry.

: _No_.: Tylendel couldn’t believe his twin. Tylendel wasn’t even _at_ Forst Reach, and he knew in his bones that Vanyel couldn’t remain there for another day. It was like saying the sky was blue, the grass was green, the sun rises in the Easy, and Vanyel couldn’t be left in his family’s clutches a moment longer. It wasn’t up for argument. It was fact.

And yet, Staven, in that tortured voice was saying, : _-had a point, Tylendel. If anyone found out Vanyel was at Rosewood-:_

: _We can’t leave him again. That so-called family of his will tear him to pieces, if they don’t burn him to ashes first!_ : Tylendel demanded, his temper snapping. His words felt like powdered chilies on his tongue, burning hot and relentless. : _Don’t you_ care _about Vanyel?_ :

Staven’s own temper flared, ice cold to Tylendel’s raging inferno. : _Don’t care? I’m the one who’s here in this godforsaken keep, not you!:_

: _I’d be there if I could be, and you know it!_ : Tylendel snapped, ruthlessly shoving aside the guilt that tried to make its way into his heart.

Staven snorted, and his tone took on a decidedly bitter tone as he said, : _Oh I know that, sure I do. Of course, you’d leave Haven and Savil and the Heralds for_ Vanyel. _That much has always been clear. Ever since we first met him, he’s come first._ :

Tylendel frowned, confusion slowly putting out his temper’s flames. : _What-_ :

: _I’ve always known I wasn’t enough for you, that Vanyel mattered more than your own twin. I mean it’s not like I haven’t been in more danger_ for years _out in Rosewood. But no, of course you need to move rivers because Vanyel’s arm’s broken and his father makes him a little sad._ :

: _What? Staven-_ :

: _You’ve always made it_ very _clear that I wasn’t ever enough. I wasn’t enough when our father died and you wouldn’t talk to anyone. Or when your Gifts manifested and you thought you were going insane, or were possessed.  I mean, I couldn’t even get you out of that cell. Of course Vanyel matters more to you than your useless brother._ :

: _I don’t-_ : The cup fell from Tylendel’s numb fingers, spilling cider all over his boots. He didn’t even notice. He could scarcely understand what Staven was saying, it was like getting hit over the head with a brick unexpectedly- where was it all _coming_ from?

: _So don’t worry. You’ve made it very clear that Vanyel must always come first, Tylendel. Don’t you worry about that,_ : Staven said, his words sticky sweet, like rotting, overripe fruit. : _And I’ve had_ enough _._ :

Before Tylendel could even try to get another word in, figure out what Staven was even saying, Staven slammed down his mental walls so hard that Tylendel’s vision went fuzzy.

When he came back to his senses, he couldn’t even feel the faintest hint of their bond. They’d found ways to thin the bond, to give each other space and privacy. But this… It felt like there was a wall between them, seamless and impossibly tall. It was almost like there never had been a bond in the first place.

Tylendel sank to the floor, next to his fallen cup and covered his face.

What had he done?

~

Vanyel slipped up a rarely used set of stairs, arms laden with as much food as he could sneak out of the kitchen unnoticed, and peered cautiously around the corner.

He and Staven had chatted for at least a candlemark, before Staven’s stomach had rumbled so loudly that even Vanyel had been able to hear it.

Vanyel had laughed, and then had left to steal them something for a late dinner. He’d already missed his morning’s arms practice, so he decided to skip his afternoon lessons too. He’d be in trouble later with his tutor, and with Father, but Staven would only be at Forst Reach for so long, and it was no question that spending time with him would be worth the scolding he’d get.

Staven had agreed to leave the day after the next, rather than right away- it would make catching up with his armsmen all but impossible before they reached Rosewood, but Staven had only shrugged when it’d come up. Vanyel hadn’t had words to express how grateful he was, and he’d been happy when Staven had changed the subject.

Thankfully, the hallway between the stairs and the library were deserted, and it was short work to slip down the hall and through the library’s heavy oak doors.

Staven, surprisingly, was outside the secret room and waiting for him in the library proper, idly scanning the underused books on the shelves. It was a little risky, but very few people apart from Vanyel used the library and the little hidden room got awfully stuffy at times, even with the window open. Vanyel could hardly blame him for needing some fresh air, given how long they’d been chatting in there before Vanyel had left for food.

As Vanyel let the door slide shut behind him, Staven turned away from the book case. There was something odd about his expression, but before Vanyel could ask if anything was wrong, Staven was saying, “Oh good, I’m about ready to eat my own arm if you don’t feed me soon.”

Vanyel frowned minutely- there was something off about Staven’s voice as well, too tight, his usual flippant tone sounding forced. But Staven was smiling, so Vanyel just passed over a loaf of bread and one of the apples he’d nicked. He was probably imagining things. Staven had to be tired after racing all the way there, scarcely taking long enough to let his horse rest, of course he’d seem a little off-kilter.

“No need for that, I think,” Vanyel said, grinning when Staven forwent any semblance of manners and shoved nearly a quarter of the bread in his mouth all at once.

They sat down with their meal, tucked behind a bookcase in case someone did happen to come up to the library. Vanyel arranged the remaining food on the floor, and made a note to himself to remember to smuggle down some blankets for Staven to use, since he’d be sleeping in the secret room that night. The room might have been warm, but it was hardly comfortable to sleep on the wood floor. Vanyel was tempted to stay with him- they had so few hours before Staven would have to leave, it seemed wasteful to spend any of them on his own in the empty dorm- but there was always the risk of someone noticing him missing at night and while it was one thing to skip lessons and dinner, and another to be missing from his bed. No, better to not raise suspicions too much, even if Vanyel wanted to soak in the presence of a friend for as long as possible. Who knew when the next time he’d see anyone who remotely liked him again?

Staven swallowed his chunk of bread with some difficulty, and said, “I know that you can’t come with me Vanyel, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to find a way to get you out of here.”

Vanyel smiled, torn between helpless fondness and resignation. “What could you possibly do? Apart from setting fire to the whole keep to drive us all out, that is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I know you’d kill me if your sheet music got burned up in the process,” Staven joked. His expression grew more serious as he continues, “I don’t know. But there has to be something. I won’t give up on you, I promise.”

Before Vanyel could reply, the library doors flew open, bouncing off the walls with a crash.

Vanyel and Staven exchanged wide-eyed looks and they both stayed very, very still, hardly even breathing.

There were two sets of footsteps, one heavy and clomping, the other accompanied by the rustle of silken skirts.

The library door was closed, and Vanyel’s heart sank as his mother’s voice said, tight with displeasure, “Withen, what in Haven’s name did you drag me in here for?”

“It’s about the boy.” Withen’s voice was dark. “I’m sending him away.”

“Withen- no!” His mother cried, already on the verge of tears. “You can’t! He’s just broken his arm, you can’t expect him to ride off in this state!”

Vanyel’s breath caught in his chest- was his father finally washing his hands of him?

Withen snorted and said, “I’ll wait till his arm’s out of that cast, but arrangements must be made. There’s nothing more I can do for that willful boy.”

“Just because-” Treesa began to say hotly, shocking Vanyel by displaying a backbone he hadn’t known she had.

And then Vanyel’s whole arm jolted with pain from the awkward position he’d frozen in, and his elbow smacked into the edge of the bookcase, knocking a book off the lowest shelf.

The sound of the book hitting the floor seemed to echo in the library’s high ceilings, the moment stretching out impossibly long.

Then Withen said, “What in God’s name-” and stormed around the side of the bookcase.

Vanyel watched as his father locked eyes with Staven. No one moved for a moment, Withen’s mouth working wordlessly, an angry red flush moving up his neck and cheeks.

Then several things happened all at once.

Withen snarled, and lunged for Staven’s neck, yelling, “You damned little-” At the same time, Vanyel flung himself between the two of them and shouted, “Staven, run!”

Treesa appeared around the corner, and immediately started to swoon with shock, even as Staven made a shocked little noise, and shot to his feet, ducked under Withen’s outreached arms, and nearly tripped over Treesa.

“Guards!” Withen roared, trying to get around Vanyel, who fumbling to stay between him and Staven, heedless of how his arm ached with the sudden movement.

“Run!” Vanyel shrieked again, and this time Treesa really did faint, sprawling across the floor in an ungainly heap.

Staven leapt over her prone form, but didn’t head for the door- where Vanyel could already hear the sound of boots pounding down the hallway- and instead raced towards the secret door.

Withen shoved past Vanyel, knocking him on his ass, and causing him to smack his broken arm on the edge of a bookcase. He saw stars, but stumbled to his feet, chasing after Withen towards the secret room.

He got there in time to see Withen lunge at Staven, just as Staven dove through the half-height door, miraculously making it through.

The door was too small for Withen to fit through with his broad shoulders, and stomach paunch. Vanyel tried duck around his father for the door, but Withen grabbed him by the upper arm- the broken one- and shook him like a dog with a rabbit.

“What in God’s name were you doing?” He snarled, spittle flying from his mouth and hitting Vanyel in the face.

Vanyel bit his lip and refused to speak, sick to his stomach even as he heard the sound of the window in the secret room slide open, and Staven escape into the night.

“What was that- that _perverted invert_ doing in my keep?” Withen roared, shaking Vanyel again, hard enough that his vision started to grey from the pain in his arm.

He still stayed silent, biting his tongue against the pained cry that wanted to slip through.

Withen glowered at him a moment longer, and then tossed him aside with a snarl and stormed out of the library, shouting for the guards again.

It was only once the door slammed shut again that Vanyel let himself curl into a ball and begin to sob.

~

A young woman burst into the small cottage, the door bouncing off of the wall with the force.

“It’s time!” She gasped, chest heaving. Her legs wobbled as she stepped into the cottage, and she collapsed onto a stool.

The leader of the group nearly dropped his quill and said, “Laina, what-”

“They’re back! The armsmen, I saw them on the road! I came as soon as I saw them,” she said, between desperate pants.

“Was the young lord with them?” It was the man who’d protested at the last meeting, Kittle, who spoke. He still had reservations about the plan, but speaking against it had become less and less tolerable, but he’d take any excuse to try and slow down its implementation.

Laina and the Leshara leader both looked at him in confusion.

“Where else would he be?” Laina asked, a small frown creasing her delicate face.

“I just want to be certain that if we act, we aren’t wasting-”

“It’s no matter,” the leader said firmly, ignoring Kittle’s protests. “The mage has already arrived. He can do his work now. We will have our blood.”

~

They’d only been on the road back to Haven for a day and a half, when Savil abruptly stopped in the middle of the road.

Gala and Mardic and Donnie’s companions all stopped without having to be asked, and the three trainees exchanged confused looks. The road ahead was entirely clear, without so much as a single traveler in sight.

Savil’s head tilted slightly, a tell Tylendel knew to mean that she was speaking with Kellan, her companion. As isolated as the three of them had been in the outer edges of Valdemar for the better part of a month, they hadn’t had any contact with any other Heralds, but if one happened to be within Savil’s considerable range…

: _Love,_ : Gala said gently. Her voice was kinder than it had been in days- she hadn’t been pleased to hear about Tylendel and Staven’s previously unmentioned bond, and had been curt with him ever since. Her sudden change in temperament could not mean anything good.

: _What is it?_ : Tylendel asked, heart already sinking. He couldn’t take any more bad news. Staven’s spot in the back of his mind was still as terrifyingly blank and empty as it had been since they’d fought earlier that week. He hadn’t heard a word from him since, though to be fair, Tylendel hadn’t extended a metaphorical hand either. It rubbed him raw, and set his teeth on edge. He and Staven might have allowed each other their privacy, and avoided contact sometimes, but even then, he’d been able to still feel their connection, even faint and distantly.

: _Savil was just contacted by Herald Wren_ ,: Gala said. Her words were slow and careful, like she was worried the wrong word would set him off somehow. : _He was sent specifically to track us down out here. To track you down specifically._ :

Tylendel’s stomach churned and he fought to keep from clutching at Gala’s mane like a child their first time on horseback. There was only one reason to send someone out to find them all the way out in the boondocks of Valdemar: to bring them unpleasant, important news. 

Herald Wren was especially well known for his impeccable mindspeech range, and his companion’s speed.  This was news they couldn’t wait to hear once they were returned to any town on a trade route, much less Haven.

: _What was the message?_ : Tylendel managed to ask. It was a good thing mindspeech didn’t require vocalizing words; Tylendel’s mouth had gone dry, his throat all but closed up with fear.

Gala hesitated for a long moment, her ears flicking forward uncomfortably. Ahead of them, Kellan swung his head around to give Gala a long, steady look.

At last, Gala sighed deeply, and said, : _Love, there was an attack on Rosewood. A magical one. Many people died… Including your uncle. And Staven._ :

For a moment, Tylendel almost didn’t understand what she said. It felt like a rush of noise without meaning, just inconsequential sounds.

It didn’t make any sense- his uncle. Rosewood. _Staven_.

: _Breathe, chosen_ ,: Gala said insistently- like she’d said it more than once. Tylendel abruptly realized he’d been holding his breath, and gasped unevenly. His whole body trembled like a leaf. He scarcely noticed Gala moving them off to the side of the road, or Savil exchanging a few quiet words with Donnie and Mardic.

: _He can’t- this isn’t- Staven-_ : Tylendel said to Gala, his mind skittering over her words like a stone skipping across a pond. It didn’t make any sense. Staven couldn’t be dead. It just wasn’t possible. He’d know if he was dead. He would, wouldn’t he?

The blank spot where Staven normally was felt even more empty and frightening.

: _Love-_ : Gala started to say.

Savil tried to coax him off of Gala’s back, likely because he was shaking so hard he’d nearly unseated himself, but Tylendel batted her hands off irritably.

: _He can’t be dead. He can’t!_ : He insisted.

: _Chosen, they found a-_ :

Tylendel ignored her, pushed her out, and focused on the blank spot where Staven was supposed to be. Where he still _was_ because he wasn’t dead.

He slammed himself against the mental wall and screamed : _Staven!_ :

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken so many liberties with canon, you guys. Check your cupboards, you have no liberties left because I took them all.
> 
> I wrote like 3/4 of this in one sitting, so there may be changes at some point when I do a more thorough edit. Current chapter count is a rough estimate, and may also change.
> 
> Find me on tumblr and talk at me about baby Tylendel, Staven and Vanyel!! (username is ladyofthefnicks)


End file.
